


The Legend of Snake

by MWIS



Category: Legend of Zelda and Metal Gear crossover
Genre: Adventure, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-06-02
Updated: 2011-07-03
Packaged: 2017-10-20 02:58:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/208037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MWIS/pseuds/MWIS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><i>Disclaimer:</i> No character introduced in <i>The Legend of Snake</i> is my own. Each and every personality introduced is a reinterpretation of the character templates provided in videogames released in the United States of America prior to January 14th, 2009. All of these characters remain publicly recognizable, despite liberties taken in adapting them to unique circumstances in an alternate universe.</p><p>Listing the origins of every character would be excessive, but characters and settings are the property of their original owners and stem from the products of the following companies: Activision Blizzard, Atari, Atlus, Bethesda Softworks, BioWare, Bungie Studios, Capcom, Electronic Arts, Epic Games, Konami, Level-5, LucasArts, Namco Bandai, Naughty Dog, Nintendo, Rockstar, SEGA, Sony Computer Entertainment, Square Enix, Take Two Interactive, Tecmo Koei, Ubisoft, and Valve Corporation.</p><p>The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> _Disclaimer:_ No character introduced in _The Legend of Snake_ is my own. Each and every personality introduced is a reinterpretation of the character templates provided in videogames released in the United States of America prior to January 14th, 2009. All of these characters remain publicly recognizable, despite liberties taken in adapting them to unique circumstances in an alternate universe.
> 
> Listing the origins of every character would be excessive, but characters and settings are the property of their original owners and stem from the products of the following companies: Activision Blizzard, Atari, Atlus, Bethesda Softworks, BioWare, Bungie Studios, Capcom, Electronic Arts, Epic Games, Konami, Level-5, LucasArts, Namco Bandai, Naughty Dog, Nintendo, Rockstar, SEGA, Sony Computer Entertainment, Square Enix, Take Two Interactive, Tecmo Koei, Ubisoft, and Valve Corporation.
> 
> The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

**  
_January 14th, 2009_   
**

The sweet scent of nicotine entered my mouth and, for a moment, I savored the raw flavor of death. Smoking is a divine habit, its merit measured not in the obscure risks of cancer but in the raspy rapture accompanying every breath. I had no reason to worry for the sake of my blackened lungs. I was gifted with the knowledge that it would not be the cause of my inevitable demise.

Every man would eventually die. Yet few men truly lived. Most were content to accept the rules propagated by a system beyond their immediate control. Most men lived in fear, locked with their loved ones in the comfort of their homes, never risking for a mere moment the simple pleasures of mindless existence. Few men understood just how the system had dominated and manipulated them, how arcane regulations and oppressive interests had burned heaving holes through their hearts, and how the fortunate few had deceived their minds into a callow acceptance of false realities. Most men marched through life without eyes to witness the pain and suffering that threatened to engulf them. So long as they escaped to the pictures painted by a deceptive media, and so long as those in power were lifted to a pantheon of demigods, dissent would quickly be labeled unconscionable.

So the sheep did as they commanded. They were oblivious to the vice and corruption.

I somewhat envied them.

It was a frigid January evening, and I was fighting for yet another lost cause. Otacon always used to tell me that we were the vanguards of the human conscience, the last sliver of hope, the last possibility for change. He always spoke in such lofty language. To Otacon, the world was wounded by the digressions of a few warped individuals, men of tyranny like Link, who somehow managed to deceive a well-intentioned populace. I was not like Otacon. To me, the world was filled with Links, and Clouds, and Sephiroths. The Colonel was one of them. So was Naomi. I trusted them with my life. They left me to rot in an aging, decrepit body that would not last another five years. My hair was already turning gray, and my body was perpetually aching.

This was a mixed blessing. I was growing sick and tired of this world.

Yet I still fought. Sometimes, as in that precise moment in January, I found myself wondering why. I suspect it was because somewhere, in the vast stretches of Termina's unyielding sprawl, an honest family was struggling in the slums of Termina, just trying to make ends meet. Somewhere in the void of consciousness, a single man's eyes were open, and the city of vices had revealed its rotting, decrepit soul to him. Somewhere out there, a single mother was working two shifts, only to have seen most of her wages drained by a system that punished the impoverished and rewarded the wealthy. Somewhere out there, a young girl, pure and innocent and blissfully unaware of the ramifications of decaying civilization, just wanted to grow a pretty garden.

I had never been a hero. Those cherished few, those last remnants of sanity in a world gone mad, the men and women who would never wield a gun or steal from the homeless or even smoke a cigarette. They were the heroes. History would not record them as such, but they were the beacons of freedom. They were the people I'd fight for. They were the ones I'd die for.

History had always foolishly attempted to define 'heroes' in the mold of Link. And Cloud. And Sephiroth. Men of power. I wanted nothing to do with them. They were heroes because they were born with strong bodies, strong minds, and a conviction that the world existed to serve their needs. Link wielded power as if it was his birthright. Cloud was no different, back when the Avalanche Revolution of 2003 promised to 'change things.' It was easy to promise a revolt, and easy to incite raw violence. It was more difficult to actually act on one's promises, as greed and arrogance worked its way into a man's veins. Link undermined the security and the independence of his populace, and he threatened the continued prosperity of the world he ruled, yet he would be the one that history remembered. If nothing else, when the people had been beaten to a comatose pulp long enough, they would feel a requirement to redefine their oppressors as men worthy enough to have oppressed them.

Link would never be forgotten, I thought, as a puff of smoke escaped my lungs and dissipated into the air.

Not even after I killed him.


	2. First Steps in Termina

**  
_January 14th, 2009_   
**

Even by winter's frigid standards, it was an unusually cold day. The winds tore at the few bits of flesh that were exposed to the elements, like ravenous hounds hungry to devour their pray. The slums beneath Termina's Sector Seven were a dreadful place. Above us was not a sun to warm the barren ground, but a dark and obstructing series of interwoven plates and pillars that lifted the privileged elites into the stratosphere. Above us were a myriad of pipes, some containing raw sewage. To the people above the masses of the slums, the downtrodden were literally worth less than their piss.

The scarf around my neck was a deep, vibrant blue. Otacon probably chose it to match my bandanna. I didn't have the time to bother with fashion statements. Otacon handled the technology, and apparently, he dabbled a bit in following men's clothing trends. Phoenix handled our finances and our public relations strategy. I just discovered new and exciting ways to kill people.

Together, we were Philanthropy. Multiple websites had compared us to the likes of Avalanche. Our rhetoric had been misconstrued as advocating a return to the days of violent revolution. Those were boldfaced lies. Avalanche failed a year after its coup because they had presented no sustainable alternative to Link's rule. Avalanche was colored in the language of socialism, but its leaders did not follow their own decrees to the people they presumably served. Their answer to the cries of the masses was to respond with a slight variant of the corruption that the people knew too well. Avalanche failed because Cloud was foolish enough to seek the same power that Link had attained.

But he let Link live, because the public would only condone executions of anonymous criminals. Those that were famous in the eyes of the people often escaped persecution. Their connections, their networks, enabled them to get away with murder. Phoenix told me that a competitor of his, a man named Edgeworth, found a loophole in the legal system with which to spare Link's life. Cloud was too busy sleeping beside men, women, and children to give a damn. In those days, Edgeworth was a defense attorney and Wright's partner. Once Link regained power through his coup, he promoted Edgeworth to lead the Turks Intelligence Agency, and Edgeworth then commanded the Turks from his bully pulpit, convicting innocent men and women of false crimes. The friendship between Phoenix and Miles fell apart around that time. I was too smart to ask Wright to reveal most of the gritty details.

Link, then Cloud, then Link again. The cycle continued into perpetuity, and the one in charge mattered little. The crimes of those who resided in Shinra's Headquarters remained shrouded in a veil of mystery. Both men engaged in the same...pleasantries. Piles of money. Exorbitant taxation. Favors for 'friends.' Men in black suits cruelly and efficiently mowing down perceived 'enemies.' The most attractive men, women and children were the least lucky. They would be kidnapped, forced to suck down the juices of barbarism firsthand. The luckiest were those smart enough to stay homeless in the slums. Better to live next to an abandoned train car, dressed in rags, huddled over a fire, but still possessing one's precious dignity.

I could have found a quiet corner to rant and rave for hours about the system. I could have sat there forever, breathing in the toxic fumes of my beloved nicotine. I had for years. Yet this day was the dawning of a new era. Today, Operation Philanthropy began in earnest.

Phoenix and Otacon were both safe in our underground labyrinth, a headquarters buried beneath the safety of the streets of nearby Kalm. Link's forces were present there, of course, but not to such a degree. These days, only a few lucky thousand possessed the privilege to reside outside the overcrowded hellhole of Termina. More than ninety percent of the world was being drilled. Holes had peppered the surface of our once beautiful planet, searching for those last hidden crevices of mako energy. Meanwhile, untold millions of unfortunate people were stuffed like sardines into the city of nightmares. Millions more, of course, were buried beneath it.

Otacon provided me with a passport to acquire access into the slums. Although a necessary security precaution to ensure my infiltration, doing so probably wasn't even necessary. Security was always tight to get into the city above, but the ground beneath was home only to vagabonds, criminals, anarchists, gangs, and those generally of ill repute. Link's Administration ruled Termina with an iron fist, but it relied on an ambiguous network of lackeys to oppress its wastelands. My credentials were viewed for all of five seconds by a single 'officer' who was more interested in raping the poor girl in line behind me. This is not a land that follows any laws but those prehistoric ones, decided by blunt objects and the pouring of blood.

She was young. Maybe twelve. Traveling with her grandfather. Brunette. She had a ponytail, I think. She sang a lullaby as she was 'inspected.' I wanted to snap every bone in that inspector's neck, but I couldn't risk being exposed so soon. There were too many soldiers in the vicinity, and I was only one man. I had to drown out her screams as I walked away.

Otacon pleaded with me over the codec. _"Kill him!"_ he shouted. _"Save her!"_ Phoenix was slightly more subdued, but Wright still believed in a concept of nonviolent justice, the notion that the pen could still eclipse and overtake the sword. I had to resist any virtuous impulse that could compromise the mission. In truth, there are thousands of girls like her. Even if I had rescued her today, she probably would have been raped by another tomorrow. The system of vile oppression would only die when Link, the head of the monster, was killed. And I could only kill Link if I was nothing but a shadow.

I was surrounded by a series of dilapidated huts, in varying states of disrepair. The few slum lords here who controlled this territory lived in the nicest accommodations, but by the standards of the world above, even their possessions were worth mere scraps of gil. There was a marketplace in the center of this village, bustling with the most activity. Most of the property traded was in the form of people sold into slavery. The most unfortunate ones would be forced to compete against each other in matches to death to provide entertainment for their captors. It was brutal to watch, yet to witness such a sight firsthand was to understand the face of the enemy. Link was not a heroic figure in green tights anymore. He was no longer the elf who rescued fair damsels, the common boy who rose to fame through a fine mix of luck and prophecy. Nor was he a man wearing a pressed Shinra business suit, the benevolent image of a patriotic patriarch that adorned billboards and posters in the world above. Link was found instead in the expressions of sheer agony found on the faces of the subjugated and exploited masses in these slums.

Hidden from plain sight were the few weapons I had managed to smuggle into this territory. To possess weapons of some sort in the slums would be expected. Despite this, most could not have afforded firearms, let alone a dozen specialty grenades. Most enforcers in the depths were equipped with knives, the occasional sword, maybe a whip or a spear. I was fortunate to smuggle in a tranquilizer pistol, a modified Beretta. Even though the weapon was non-lethal, the gun was probably worth more than several dozen slaves.

I was not wearing my stealth suit. Not yet, anyway. It was carefully hidden in a single suitcase, strategically placed next to lightly soiled undergarments. (The apparel had been intentionally soiled, so as to prevent the officer from proceeding with a closer inspection.) Unwashed clothing was not atypical in these parts, and I drew no additional attention. I had cigarettes and a lighter in one pocket, but I brought no money. To travel with anything of worth in plain sight would have drawn _plenty_ of unwanted attention. Phoenix had provided me the extent of my connections by leading me in the direction of a local establishment in this sector. Even still, he did not sound incredibly enthusiastic of the prospects that I would quickly acquire the resources I needed to break out of the slums anytime soon.

My goal was to eliminate Link. Even reaching Link, however, was virtually impossible. He resided on the top floor of a headquarters that was elevated far above the Earth. Once I made it atop the plates, I had to find a way to acquire access into Sector One, also known as Neo Kokiri. It was the most heavily guarded sector, and it contained the only passageway to the central pillar, atop which rested Shinra Headquarters. After climbing dozens upon dozens of floors unnoticed, a fortunate assassin might have reached Link's quarters. Heh. Good luck.

The fluorescent lighting of this freezing locale seemed redundant. Why illuminate an unchanging sea of brown and gray hues? Yet in front of me was a tavern with letters in brash shades of neon red and blue. "Seventh Heaven," the sign proclaimed. If this was heaven, I thought, I needed to pray for unattainable immortality. It was here, more than five years ago, that Avalanche, the original resistance movement, was born. Strangely, after regaining power, Link did not think to close this establishment. Maybe he left it open as a sign to those conspiring against him; "Resistance is futile. You could plot all you want for your precious revolutions, but change will never come, and you will never be free." In any case, since Cloud and Sephiroth's brutal public executions in 2004, no one dared to cross Link again. Link did not repeat Cloud's fatal flaw. Cloud had let Link recuperate in a jail cell, and he had paid a hefty price for his indiscretion. Link may have become a truly sinister, revolting facade of his former self, but he was smart enough to outwit his spiky-haired nemesis.

" _I've made it to the contact point. Are you sure Luigi will be here?"_ I muttered, though no one nearby would have seen my lips move. I was speaking privately, almost telepathically, through my mind's inner voice. Naomi was a despicable person, a traitor with a mind easily swayed. She nearly destroyed Philanthropy before the project even began. Still, her nanotechnology breakthroughs had proven useful, and her innovations would outlast her demise.

" _I have no idea,"_ Otacon's high-pitched voice responded. _"Stay on your guard. Luigi used to be a top law enforcement officer in Link's regime. He could still be working with the enemy. But we don't have any other leads. Few high ranking government officials willingly find themselves in the slums."_

" _Isn't he Mario's brother? Seems like an odd candidate to turn traitor,"_ I said.

" _Yes,"_ said Phoenix, the third and final participant in our traditional codec conversations. _"He's Mario's younger brother."_

" _Strange. I don't feel comfortable trusting the word of General Mario's brother. It's more likely Luigi's either set up a trap, or he's been burned so bad by Link's Administration that he'd have nothing to offer us."_

" _I understand your concerns, but it's still a risk worth taking,"_ replied Phoenix, in his traditional matter-of-fact recitation. _"I knew Luigi, albeit vaguely, back in my days as an attorney. He had a heart, and a conscience. A nice guy surrounded by piranhas. He just got caught up in the wrong kinds of causes. Having an influential older brother immersed in such a world…led to the inevitable."_

" _Besides,"_ Otacon interjected, _"you're still the best covert operative in the world, trained by Foxhound, the clone of Big Boss."_

" _Foxhound. Big Boss. Those words mean nothing these days,"_ I said, spitting those putrid words out of my mouth as if they were curses. _"And I'm getting older, in case you haven't noticed."_

Phoenix did not bother to attempt a response. He had probably grown accustomed to my growing cynicism. _"A woman named Tifa Lockheart is Seventh Heaven's owner. Former Avalanche member. It might be worth trying to converse with her. She was one of the leaders alongside Cloud and Sephiroth back in 2003."_

" _And she was spared the aftermath of Link's coup?"_

Phoenix paused for a moment, seeming to search for the right words to say. _"She has...assets. Link found her...useful, for a while. When he grew tired of her servitude, he let her go. Link no longer views Avalanche as a threat. Its remaining members have dispersed, and without Cloud and Sephiroth to rally them, they're in no position to commit to any more acts of terrorism. Link views them with absolute contempt, but massacring every former Avalanche member would probably lead to an avalanche of martyrs. Better to leave the weaker ones alive and impoverished."_

" _It also provides Link a convenient terrorist group to blame whenever anything goes wrong,"_ said Otacon. _"Every disaster is Avalanche's fault these days, and the media's portrayal only keeps Link's approval ratings stable. The administration could practically get away with genocide and no one would know!"_

" _Sounds like your cherished legal system is in a pretty deep pile of shit, Phoenix,"_ I replied.

 _"Hey, buddy. I'm holding onto what little faith I have left,"_ said Phoenix. _"But with Edgeworth effectively running the Turks... the courts are absolutely emasculated. There's no such thing as objective truth, justice, equality. Edgeworth shut me down, and nearly everyone else who possessed a shred of integrity. Even prosecutors with a reputation as severe as Franziska von Karma were threatened. For all I know, she just might be dead. Most respectable esquires and politicians were butchered, along with the Constitution."_

" _Listen, Snake. You can reach Phoenix and I anytime you need to. Phoenix is a master at social interaction, laws, and politics. You can contact him for advice in handling interpersonal situations that you might struggle with. Remember, you'll need to cultivate friendships and relationships if you're going to last long out there. You can reach me anytime you need advice on technical issues. Computer hacking, repairing damaged equipment, that kind of stuff. We're here for you twenty-four seven, man. Don't forget about us."_

" _Affirmative. I'm commencing Operation Philanthropy. The first objective is to find Luigi Mario."_ I usually tried to keep military lingo light when speaking to Otacon and Phoenix, who were unaccustomed to their usage. In these kinds of moments, however, the habit was too hard to resist.

" _Good luck, Snake. Make 'em pay,"_ said Otacon.

" _Just, promise me you'll forgo violence whenever you can?"_ said Phoenix. _"We don't need to mar the cause with any unnecessary bloodshed."_

" _Deal,"_ I said. _"We're not Avalanche."_

" _While you're at it, can you promise me you'll give up that atrocious smoking habit?"_ Otacon pleaded. _"You really can't afford it. With the accelerated aging kicking in and FOXDIE in your system, the nicotine could react..."_

" _No deal, Hal,"_ I replied. _"You know me better than that."_

Once the conversation ended, I gathered one final look at my immediate surroundings. Having stood motionlessly in a spot for several minutes, I had garnered some stares from a few elderly men gathered next to a tent near the tavern. I nodded calmly at them and pressed onward. In this place, my moments of inaction while using nanotechnology were simply excused as atypical. Not every man in the depths could make a substantive claim of sanity. However, it could pose a far greater problem later in the mission, when my periods of eerie silence would be greeted with less mere curiosity and more clear suspicion.

Opening the door into Seventh Heaven, I was greeted immediately with a foul odor, a mix of alcohol, sweat, and filth. Nonetheless, this dump was probably still among the cleanest buildings in the forsaken seventh sector slums. My presence was barely acknowledged by the crowd, most of whom were too engaged in their own meager concerns. I looked for a tall, lean, mustachioed man fitting Luigi's basic description, but none fit the mark. In the interim, I noted that the group in the tavern was nothing if not eclectic. A gorgeous, well-endowed woman with raven-black hair was serving drinks and striking small conversation with the local inhabitants. Under other circumstances this would have merited my attention, but partaking in flirtatious banter was not at the forefront of my thoughts. The cries of terror from that young girl at the checkpoint were still too freshly ingrained. Furthermore, Tifa...I assumed it was her…didn't bother leaving much of herself to the imagination. Easy conquests rarely piqued my interest.

A small television, certainly the most expensive possession in the tavern, was blasting the proceedings of a sports game between the Neo Kokiri Elves and the Neo Hyrule Knights. No one seemed to be watching. There was another woman in the far back of the bar who had relinquished herself to the shadows of the establishment's dust-infested corners. In the center table, a group of men seemed to be enjoying an intense game of poker. As I examined the scene, I wondered exactly what to do next.

 **STATUS:**

 **Weapons:** Beretta M9 tranquilizer pistol, six chaff grenades, and six stun grenades.

 **Social Links:** None. _  
_

 **Support Links:** _Phoenix Wright, Hal Emmerich._

 **DECISION:**

 **What should Snake do next?**   


**A:** Order a drink and strike up some small talk with Tifa. _(Not chosen, five votes.)_ **  
B:** Ask Tifa if she knows anything about Luigi Mario. _(Not chosen, zero votes.)_ **  
C:** Ask Tifa to change the television channel to Termina's News Network. _(Not chosen, zero votes.)_ **  
D:** Join the company of the men playing the poker game. _**(Chosen, six votes.)**_ **  
E:** Introduce yourself to the woman in the corner. _(Not chosen, two votes.)_


	3. Ace of Spades

**  
_January 14th, 2009_   
**

I hadn't played poker in years. Otacon was always too busy constructing his technological marvels to bother with a game or two, and Phoenix never expressed an eagerness to indulge in gambling. When I would ask him to play a round, he'd give me a forlorn look, one of those whimsical stares into the distance, and unleash a melancholy sigh. Maybe he had enjoyed the hobby once, but it seemed the passage of time had dampened his enthusiasm. I thought his convictions on the matter were amusing. Wright never suffered any similar moral crisis when he was asked to bluff his way through a trial.

As for the others...by now, they were ancient history. Naomi was too busy gambling away our lives to bother with cards. The Colonel and I used to play, before I shot and killed him. And Meryl...

"Shit, Vercetti, you going to show us anything anytime soon or are you just going to sit there and pretend you know what the fuck you're doing?"

"I just don't want to pass up on these pretty Queens I got here. Look at how gorgeous these two are. I swear, Cid. They're the prettiest girls I've seen so far this week, and they're winking at me. You see? Look at these broads." The man named Vercetti, sure enough, had the queen of diamonds and the queen of clubs in his possession. A two of a kind wasn't exactly a terrifying hand, but the expression on Cid's face made it clear that it was enough to win the pot.

"Caught you in a bluff, didn't I, you pitiful terrorist," Vercetti balked, and that exclamation did not help soothe anything over. The blonde, Cid, looked about ready to tear Vercetti to shreds. This was apparently not a comment Cid wanted to hear from anyone's mouth, least of all Vercetti's.

"You keep your damn trap shut, Vercetti," Cid moaned, before taking a long sip from the glass of beer at his side. He tossed the cards in his hand with a flick of his wrist as he frowned in dismay. One of the two cards in his hand was the ace of spades. The other card landed face-down on the table, but it was reasonable to guess that it wasn't another ace. "At least I fought for _something_. Shit, Vercetti, you ever fight for anything? Anything but a damn profit? Fucking slaver."

"I am _not_ a slaver!" Vercetti growled, though the flippant tone of his assertion did not lend it legitimacy. "I'm an honest entrepreneur dealing indispensable goods to a community in need. Have you looked outside the goddamn window, Cid? The slums here in sector seven have been turned into a goddamn cesspool because of you Avalanche asses. And you're blaming _me_ for your problems? What, because I deal in commodities and aim to make profits like any other decent businessman?"

"You sell people to the highest fucking bidder, Vercetti!" Cid shouted. "People! Avalanche was founded to _stop_ arrogant turds like you. And look at you, laughing your ass off, as if accomplishing the title of 'slum lord' grants you fucking jurisdiction. I'd like to shove my spear up your fucking ass, and I ain't speakin' in riddles."

"Oh, you're just a bitter piece of shit because you lost another game," said Vercetti. "You don't give a damn about the human property I sell."

The human condition under the rule of Link had certainly fallen from grace. Nonetheless, I saw this is a moment to interject myself into the conversation. "Human property? That's an interesting phrase," I said, dropping my suitcase on the floor and placing an arm on the table.

Vercetti did not seem remotely amused by the presence of a stranger. "Who's this? You new around here? I haven't seen you before."

"This isn't your fucking sector, Vercetti. You don't own the damn place just because you're filthy rich," said Cid.

"And you don't own the place just because you're the last ember of some half-assed revolution. But you act like this tavern's designated idiot, hellbent on informing the masses of just how glorious the 'good old days' were. You know how it was under Cloud? How it _really_ was? It wasn't as beautiful as your sermons make it out to be. I made a lot of fucking money selling Cloud some classy prostitutes. Most of them were underage boys, but what else can you expect from Avalanche?" Vercetti barked.

"FUCK YOU, YOU GODDAMN SON OF A BITCH!" Cid had jumped from his chair, nearly knocking the table to the ground. I responded with a nonchalant shrug and began to wonder if there was an easy way to escape this mess. I had quickly lost my appetite to play a few rounds of poker. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tifa just stare vacantly into empty space, as if she'd seen and heard this exact argument dozens of times before.

"Listen, boys, I just wanted to play a game of cards. No need to get too excited," I said, in an anxious attempt to prevent any further arguments.

"The stranger is right," the third poker player said, finally raising his bald head to acknowledge the others, just now appearing to become fully aware of the mess his associates were getting into. "Ms. Lockheart will kick both your sorry asses out of this joint if you keep making such fools of yourselves."

That last statement was almost certainly inaccurate. Tifa probably couldn't afford to kick _anyone_ out of her meager establishment, and she seemed absolutely disinterested in the proceedings. Vercetti and Cid could have started throwing punches or urinating on chairs, and Tifa just would have probably merely sighed and accepted the deviant behaviors of two of her most frequent customers.

"Sorry, Chief. Won't happen again," Cid grumbled, in a voice so soft it could nearly pass as a whisper.

Vercetti did not seem as conciliatory. If he really controlled the slums in the way Cid suggested, he probably didn't need to be. "You can both kiss my ass once you're done paying me what you owe. Oh, no, wait. You're both in hordes of debt. _To me._ Well, shit, I guess that puts a damper on your evening, doesn't it? Knowing that I own both your sorry souls, you filthy little bastards?"

"I'm a man of my word, Tommy. You know I'll pay you everything I owe as soon as the Turks hire me back."

"Newsflash, Chief! The Turks ain't never going to hire your sorry ass back. You're washed up. Injured. _Worthless._ Besides, I'd think completely defying Reno's orders is a good enough reason for him to want your sorry ass tried for treason. Face it, asshole, you're never seeing the sky again."

"Vercetti!" The higher feminine voice seemed utterly foreign here, though it certainly attracted everyone's attention. Tifa Lockheart had finally been pushed to the brink. Her slender arms folded around the curves of her bare midriff, though her posture only served to expose even more of that lovely cleavage. I could probably guess where the three boys were staring, but I was too busy watching darting my eyes between these strangers, unsure of exactly who to trust and fervent to avoid any further escalation. Things were not going according to plan, and the last thing I needed was to be seen as responsible for a barroom brawl. Word traveled fast in the Termina slums, perhaps because there was so little else of merit to discuss, and I needed to keep a clean reputation.

"Tifa, you grimy little whore, you got a problem with what I'm sayin'? Because last I checked, I owned your sorry ass. You forget who saved you from a life as Link's exquisite little plaything? Maybe I need to teach you a few more lessons," Vercetti seemed thoroughly amused by these proceedings. The more I observed him, the more convinced I was that he wasn't even taking any of this seriously. His distasteful language caught me off-guard at first, but I began to realize it was only an act. Vercetti wasn't angry. He wasn't even remotely perturbed. He was a cat pouncing on mice, eager to devour those unfortunate enough to owe him everything. In this sorry village of dilapidated concrete, where most families lived in tents barely large enough to fit one person, Vercetti's word was the law.

"I don't owe you anything anymore, Tommy. You, Link, Sephiroth...you've all taken everything. Everything I fought for. Everyone I loved. I have nothing left but this bar, and the jerks like you who drift in."

"Oh, stop the fucking act, Tifa. You want to pretend you're a perfect little angel? Poor, _poor_ Tifa Lockheart, abandoned by her true love, forced to a life of servitude, rescued by a greedy fucking mafioso. Yeah right, you conceited little succubus. Let's get one thing straight. You _like_ this shitty little life you've created for yourself. And, you love this little slice of _seventh heaven_ I've provided for you. There's nothing you like more than being told by the hordes of men who show up desperate to fuck you, and tell you just how beautiful you are, just how much they want to lick you clean. It's the only attention you'll ever get, the one boost of confidence you wouldn't dare relinquish. Some rely on drugs to get by. You're addicted to sex. And you don't even _like_ sex, Lockheart! You just like that mystical _feeling_ that your life is worth living. You're no better than anyone else in these forgotten wastelands, Lockheart. Don't forget it."

As Vercetti continued his appalling monologue, I noticed in the corner of my peripheral vision that Cid, the unkempt blonde with some former association with Avalanche, held a small knife that was partially concealed in his left hand. Vercetti was too busy grilling Tifa and engaging in his sordid rants to notice Cid's actions, and if the Chief saw anything, he certainly wasn't going to share his insights. The woman in the corner of the bar, meanwhile, was still minding her own business, apparently oblivious or disinterested in the proceedings around her. I was beginning to become concerned. Her behavior...or, her _lack_ of behavior...seemed suspicious. At any rate, the Codec line was dead silent; Otacon and Phoenix were either too busy to bother dispensing their usual advice, or they were merely mildly amused by the tirades they were overhearing.

Life in the impoverished slums was nothing if not horrendously eventful.

I had a choice to make.

 **STATUS:**

 **Weapons:** Beretta M9 tranquilizer pistol, six chaff grenades, and six stun grenades.

 **Social Links:** None.

 **Support Links:** _Phoenix Wright, Hal Emmerich._

 **DECISION:**

 **How should Snake react in this situation?**

 **A:** Announce to everyone that Cid has a knife in an attempt to diffuse the situation. _(Not chosen, zero votes.)_  
 **B:** Threaten to use a stun grenade to diffuse the situation. _(Not chosen, zero votes.)_  
 **C:** Actually use a stun grenade to diffuse the situation. _(Not chosen, zero votes.)_  
 **D:** Knock Vercetti out cold with CQC skills before Cid can act. _(Not chosen, one vote.)_  
 **E:** Disarm Cid with CQC skills. _(Not chosen, zero votes.)_  
 **F:** Let the fight play out; try to separate Chief from the action to ask him questions. _(Not chosen, two votes.)_  
 **G:** Let the fight play out; in the meantime, approach the mysterious woman in the back corner. **_(Chosen, twelve votes.)_**  
 **H:** Leave Seventh Heaven before the violence escalates further. _(Not chosen, zero votes.)_


	4. The Chatterbox

**  
_January 14th, 2009_   
**

My instinctive reaction was to intervene. I had been trained in several methods to diffuse these kinds of confrontations. I could have easily manhandled Vercetti or Cid before either had the chance to react. Cid may have once been a skilled warrior, but the years had not been kind to him, and it was clear that he had lost his touch. Cid hesitated to initiate his attack for a few crucial moments. Maybe he was intimidated by Vercetti's reputation. Maybe he thought twice about attempting an assault in a tavern owned by a former Avalanche associate. Or maybe his mind just went blank, paralyzed by the colossal weight of indecision.

Tommy Vercetti did not share Cid's pensiveness.

One of the first lessons I had learned as a covert agent in FOXHOUND, those many years ago, was to make a full commitment to any action. Doubt had no place on a battlefield, and it had no place in this seedy tavern in the underworld of Termina, either. The Colonel once told me that a moment's hesitation was the kiss of death. Once you raised your bet, you committed yourself to your hand, and there was turning back. This was a lesson that Cid Highwind would learn the hard way.

The next minute or so was an absolute blur, punctuated only by the familiar sound of a bullet leaving its chamber and finding a new home in flesh. I should have suspected that Tommy Vercetti would be armed. Cid Highwind should have suspected as much, too. Vercetti took his eyes off Lockheart's charming curves long enough to notice the knife in the ex-terrorist's hand. Cid took a precious second too long to commit to a fateful lunge, and Vercetti had more than enough time to duck the blow and respond in kind. A handgun that was once concealed emerged triumphantly in Vercetti's able hands. Tommy did not appear to be a fit man, as he did not seem like the type who could put much of a fight in a melee skirmish, but he was undeniably skilled with a pistol. The proof of Vercetti's marksmanship was vividly illustrated by Cid's final moans of anguish, as blood drenched through his navy blue jacket.

I remembered what Otacon told me, during last week's preliminary briefings. The moment I saw a murder firsthand, I had to react as if I was a common resident in Termina. I had to pretend I was shocked, abhorred, disgusted. This proved difficult for me. Over the years, I had grown used to this sight. As the last fibers of life drained out of Cid's eyes, as crimson drops coated the wooden floor of this forsaken heaven, I was merely reminded of the hundreds of men I'd seen die before. Despite her past allegiance to a violent terrorist organization, Tifa Lockheart did not share a luxury of familiarity with this gruesome sight. Her reaction was far more pronounced. Color rushed from her skin and as her jaw descended, and a high-pitched scream wailed for what felt to be an eternity. Meanwhile, I had merely jumped back and made a quick whelp that could have been interpreted as excessively poor acting.

She had known Cid on a personal and profound level, and they were two of the last remnants of a bygone era. Avalanche had been comprised of tens of thousands of members in its prime, but there were only a dozen ringleaders who operated under Cloud's direct tutelage. She and Cid were two of them. Cid would now join Cloud, Sephiroth, and many other Avalanche revolutionaries in the afterlife.

I had only a moment to regret my decision. I wondered if I had indirectly contributed to Cid's premature demise. Public associations with any ex-Avalanche member were likely to have proven disastrous, but Cid's predisposition against Link provided the groundwork for a valuable and reliable ally. Despite this, I quickly relinquished any semblance of guilt and accepted what could not be undone. My new goal was simple. I had to escape this tavern without arousing any further suspicion. I had to leave Tifa to her grief, Vercetti to his schemes, and the Chief to his nostalgic memories. But I wouldn't be leaving empty-handed, and there was still one potential lead that I needed to pursue.

That girl. Something was...off-putting about her. She barely reacted to the war of words among the poker players. She hardly seemed to acknowledge anyone's presence. The gunshot had startled her, and she deftly retreated, hovering near Seventh Heaven's back exit. I needed to speak with her. I grabbed my suitcase with my left hand and plotted a quick exit.

Vercetti had his gun pointed at Chief. The bald veteran and former Turk remained silent and merely raised his arms to the sky. Vercetti then began to speak, but with Phoenix and Otacon shouting obscenities into my mind, the details of his speech slipped outside the realm of my conscious thoughts. He was probably gloating. A man who possessed Vercetti's power did not need to make excuses for any repugnant behavior.

"Come with me," I said to the girl as I reached out and grabbed her forearm. She was young, blonde, petite, dressed in unassuming tones of brown and gray. She once blended easily into the background of Seventh Heaven's dark corners, but up close, she seemed vibrant, maybe even attractive. For whatever reason, she was willing to follow me, if only to flee the scene of such bloodshed. In a stroke of luck, we had escaped Seventh Heaven virtually unnoticed.

We found ourselves back in that dreadful frigid air. It was only getting colder. Beneath the plates, the changing temperature was the only surefire way to tell that night was approaching.

"Well, _that_ was a total disaster," The girl said.

"Can we talk?" I asked her.

"Depends," she responded. "I don't trust strangers. But, you fit the description of the man I was looking for."

"You were _looking_ for me?" This was news to my ears. This young blonde girl was not the mustachioed middle-aged man I had expected to meet at Seventh Heaven.

"I don't know. I just told you! I don't trust strangers. _You're_ a stranger. Should I trust you?"

As a young girl living in the deviant wastes, she had every right to be defensive. Most older men in the slums probably had...other plans...when interacting with younger women. "Who told you to expect a man with my description?"

"Hey hey _hey_!" The girl exclaimed, after making several exaggerated hand gestures to accentuate her foul mood. Her index finger jabbed my chest as she shook her head in disapproval. " _I'm_ the one who should be asking questions! I could get in big trouble with my tribe if I mess this up!"

"Your...tribe?" I asked.

"Uh-huh. Geez, you're every bit as clueless as they said you'd be," the girl retorted. "Vercetti's goons might think they own this city, but his little gang only controls the markets and most the real estate. Not everyone down here is a slave. The free men and women here beneath the seventh sector belong to three different tribes. We fight to protect what rights we can, to make sure we're not abused or pushed around. If you're a member of Al Bhed, we guarantee you won't be sold into slave labor...so long as you do us certain...favors. That's how it's always worked, I guess." Her voice was excessively bubbly, a trait I found strange given the stark, depressing reality of her surroundings. It sounded like she had successfully deceived herself into thinking there was still hope this world.

I took a moment to get a good look at this girl. I was astonished that Tifa Lockheart would let this girl enter her bar. She seemed as if she could be no older than sixteen. She had a cute dimple on the side of her lips, a pleasant smile, and an energetic aura. It was difficult to believe a girl with her features had not been sold into prostitution. There was clearly more to her than just her looks. Why would Luigi Mario...or anyone else, for that matter...hire her to meet with a stranger? Did they suspect her to charm any potential hostiles? Maybe she wasn't hired by Luigi at all. She could have been hired by Vercetti, or even by the TIA, to keep a watchful eye on events as they occurred in Seventh Heaven.

"So you work for the Al Bhed tribe?" I asked.

"You could say that," she said, her smile growing larger. "I handle...redistribution of wealth."

"Redistribution? Sounds to me like petty theft."

"Hey hey HEY! That's _so_ not nice," said the girl. "I mean, that's a very nasty thing to call it. Vercetti and his loonies are the real thieves! We're the good guys. We only steal from the powerful, and we provide our people with food, shelter, and a chance at a better life."

"So, why were you in Seventh Heaven? If you were expecting me, why didn't you approach me the moment I walked in the door?" I asked.

"H-hey now! If your name is David, _you're_ the one who's supposed to be looking for me."

David. My real name. Otacon, Phoenix and I had agreed that using my codename, 'Solid Snake,' or any variation of it would draw too much suspicion. It had been a while since the glory days of FOXHOUND, but using my public alias was an unnecessary risk. Only the Colonel, Otacon, and precious few others had ever known my real birth name, and Otacon had told me that he hacked into my personal files in Termina's database to erase any mention of the name 'David' in the archives. David was a common name, popular among Termina's lower classes, and I was expected to use that name during Operation Philanthropy. I was not expecting this girl, but the namedrop was no mere coincidence. Someone had arranged for me to meet her.

 _"Phoenix. Otacon. Can either of you hear me?"_

 _"Loud and clear, Snake,"_ said Phoenix, his voice booming into my mind through the telepathic powers of nanotechnology.

 _"Sorry about earlier, Snake. There's been a recent report from Termina...well, the news is pretty disconcerting,"_ said Otacon. _"It distracted us both until we heard that gunshot. Are you alright?"_

 _"I'm fine,"_ I said.

 _"You really need to work a little more on your...people skills, Snake,"_ Phoenix sighed.

 _"What do you mean?"_

 _"Barely a few minutes into Operation Philanthropy, and someone's already dead. You may not have been responsible, but any time you're near a murder, you're risking your neck and our reputation,"_ Phoenix said. _"You need to be very careful. At this stage in the Operation, there aren't many people we can trust. The more people you expose yourself to, the more likely you're going to get caught up in a brawl, or expose your intentions to an enemy spy. In this case, you bumped straight into one of the most powerful men in Termina's underworld and you were completely oblivious to the risks."_

 _"If Snake and I have anything in common, it's that we're not very gifted in establishing friendships,"_ Otacon muttered. _"I mean, look at how he's handling this conversation with this poor girl. Can you offer him any advice, Nick?"_

Phoenix took a deep breath and composed his thoughts. _"Okay, Snake. First, try to limit your conversations to as few people as possible until you know exactly who you're talking to. Don't expose yourself to a crowd, even with a watertight alias. Remember, Philanthropy may not be a terribly big organization, but we still have an internet presence online. No one knows of Solid Snake's association with the group, but plenty of people out there have a vague awareness of our organization's online presence. If you're seriously going to assassinate Link, you're going to need to build a movement in Termina from the ground up. And right now, we can't trust many people to respond positively to our movement."_

 _"I could just try to sneak into headquarters myself. I don't need anyone..."_

 _"If you wanted to get killed and die a martyr, that'd be a wonderful plan. I'd prefer your mission to actually have a chance in hell of succeeding. This isn't a covert operation against a terrorist organization. You're not hunting down a group of no-name mercenaries. You're going up against the head of the world's sole superpower. You're going up against a President with armies at his disposal. You'll need to rethink your antisocial attitude."_

 _"Heh,"_ I responded. _"So I have to be best friends with this kid? Sounds like the only skill she'd bring to the operation is getting on my nerves even faster than you two."_

 _"Maybe. Maybe not. You'll have to make your own decisions,"_ said Phoenix.

 _"Why was she expecting me? Are you and Otacon going to give me that 'need-to-know basis' treatment, like the Colonel? Are you hiding any secrets?"_

 _"...Actually, Snake. We're as clueless as you are. The only person who knows you're in Termina is Luigi Mario, and we didn't give Luigi many details,"_ said Otacon.

 _"So you think Luigi hired this girl as a proxy? Maybe he views her as expendable?"_ I replied.

 _"Knowing how the tribes in the underworld operate, it's more likely that Luigi would have contacted the Al Bhed leader to arrange an initial contact, and that leader simply decided she was the best candidate for the job,"_ said Phoenix. _"Unfortunately, Snake, this could be a trap. It's possible that someone in Link's administration has hacked into our Codec transmissions. Heck, it's even possible that Link actually knows you're here."_

 _"If Link knows I'm here, and if he's aware of our objectives, why wouldn't he just send someone to kill me?"_

 _"Who knows? Link's used the threat of terrorism as a tool to garner public support before. He might view your presence as more an opportunity to exploit than a hindrance. At this juncture, Link has every right to consider a mosquito a greater threat to his well-being. We could be overreacting, but we're have a habit of being paranoid, right?"_ said Otacon.

 _"All right. I've stalled long enough. This girl is looking at me as if I belonged in an insane asylum. I better say something out loud,"_ I said. _"We'll talk again later."_

 _"Good luck, Snake."_

"I'm sorry for leaving you hanging there, uhh..."

"Rikku. My name is Rikku."

"Rikku. That's it?"

"When you join the Al Bhed tribe, you're told to abandon your family name. In practice, not everyone does. I did, though! I'm just Rikku, of the Al Bhed. And, you must be David...you're using that kooky communications nanotechnology. It's too bad you look _totally_ dense when you use it!"

Rikku's knowledge of the Codec system was disheartening to reflect upon. Otacon and Phoenix may have sent messages to Luigi that revealed the name 'David,' but they'd _never_ have told Luigi, or anyone else, that I was using top-secret nanotechnology. Even most lower-ranking officials in Link's Administration were clueless to its existence.

"Yes. My name is David. I wasn't expecting you, though. I was supposed to meet someone else..." I cut myself short. Rikku may not have been a friendly face. Someone other than Luigi might have sent her. It was best to withhold such damning information of a traitor among Link's cronies.

"No matter, David. It's a pleasure to meet you," Rikku beamed, showing off a gorgeous smile christened with pearly white teeth. Her beautiful appearance was a red flag in and of itself; hardly any girls raised in the slums were likely to have been this striking. "I'm sorry I didn't approach you when you first walked in. I knew it was you. I mean, I was, like, ninety-nine percent sure it was you. Ugly mullet? Check. Brunette hair, starting to gray at the fringes? Check! You fit the description perfectly. But I chickened out. You see, Vercetti was there and...it was bad timing. I don't like Vercetti! Vercetti gives me the creeps. Shivers down my spine...eeeww. Just, yuck. Cid wasn't much better, too be honest. There were rumors floating around that he began abusing his wife after Avalanche fell apart. Can you believe that? Creepy! But, you know, Vercetti might have started those rumors. He's that kind of a guy, a total jerk."

I wondered if this magpie was ever going to shut her mouth. Teenage girls. Typical.

"So, I was told to bring you to the Al Bhed safehouse on the corner of Paradise Road and Tropics Street. Yeah, funny names, huh? Especially in January. Vercetti named them. I think he still misses Costa del Sol a bit much. Costa del Sol...doesn't that sound nice, about now? I'd love to just throw a bikini on and swim in turquoise water...oh, it just sounds like a dream! I told Yosuke once, that he better promise to take me to Costa del Sol one day! But no one leaves Termina anymore, so I'm probably just dreaming. But at least Yosuke's nice enough to play along! I'll have to introduce you to Yosuke, he should be back at the safehouse. He's such a sweetheart. So much nicer than my last deadbeat boyfriend. _That_ was a disaster. Say, are you hungry? I'm starving! Do you want to grab something to eat? There's a few joints we can visit down at the marketplace. I hear there's a beef stew special..."

I wanted to shoot myself.

With a gun.

In my mouth.

"...and then I said, Tifa, I promise I won't drink anything, I just need to sit in Seventh Heaven and wait for this guy! And she said...here's my impression of Tifa, it's spot-on! 'Are you trying to seduce an older man, Rikku? Are you that desperate for money? Wouldn't Yosuke be upset?' Like _she's_ one to talk! Tifa Lockheart, lecturing _me_ on _that_ subject! Well, you know what I said? I said, 'Tifa, don't worry about it, unlike _some_ women I know, I'm just not that kind of girl.' Hehe, score one for Rikku! That's right. Tifa thinks every cutie in the slums has to do her kind of dirty work, but she doesn't know the first thing about us Al Bhed! She's totally clueless! Chief came in first for the poker game, and I wanted to start a conversation with him because he's just such a nice guy, not like those other Turks, and that reminds me..."

"...Rikku."

"Yes, David?"

"...Can I ask you something?"

"Sure thing, David. Don't ask me any questions about Tidus, though. Touchy subject. If you ask me any questions about Tidus, I will be very disappointed in you!"

I have no idea what a tee-dus even is. "No, there's something else..."

 **STATUS:**

 **Weapons:** Beretta M9 tranquilizer pistol, six chaff grenades, and six stun grenades.

 **Social Links:** None.

 **Support Links:** _Phoenix Wright, Hal Emmerich._

 **DECISION:**

 **Which three questions should Snake ask Rikku?**

 _(Voters can select up to three choices. The top three options are chosen.)_

 **A:** "Do you know a man named Luigi Mario?" _(Not chosen, zero votes.)_  
 **B:** "Can you introduce me to Chief sometime?" _(Not chosen, four votes.)_  
 **C:** "Can you introduce me to Tifa sometime?" _(Not chosen, zero votes.)_  
 **D:** "Who is the leader of the Al Bhed tribe?" _(Not chosen, zero votes.)_  
 **E:** "Can you tell me about the other tribes in the sector seven slums?" _(Not chosen, four votes.)_  
 **F:** "Can you tell me more about Vercetti's organization?" **_(Chosen, seven votes.)_**  
 **G:** "Were you born and raised in these slums?" **_(Chosen, twelve votes.)_**  
 **H:** "How do you know about communications nanotechnology?" **_(Chosen, nine votes.)_**

 **OR, Snake can:**

 **X:** Assume Rikku is an enemy, and abandon her. Return to Seventh Heaven. _(Not chosen, zero votes.)_  
 **Y:** Assume Rikku is an enemy, and abandon her. Go to the marketplace alone. _(Not chosen, zero votes.)_  
 **Z:** Assume Rikku is an enemy, and abandon her. Find a place to spend the night. _(Not chosen, zero votes.)_


	5. An Unlikely Acquaintance

_  
**January 14th, 2009**   
_

I wanted to ask Rikku dozens of more important questions that were relevant to the mission, but I was reminded of Phoenix's advice. To develop friendships with strangers, I needed to converse on subjects important to Rikku. I had to listen to her stories and try to understand who she was as a 'person.' As a trained stealth operative, I'd almost rather have charged into Link's headquarters on my own than indulge in such pleasantries. The social component of this mission was looking to be an impenetrable challenge already.

"Rikku. Were you born and raised in these slums?" I asked. It was a personal question, and not one I felt comfortable asking less than an hour after meeting her acquaintance. Still, I had to prove to Rikku that I wasn't anything like the vast majority of men she had the misfortune of interacting with in the underworld. Though she did not seem like a particularly valuable ally in a fight, knowing someone with her magnetic degree of enthusiasm could prove worthwhile. She was also intelligent enough to identify my usage of communications nanotechnology, and she most likely had connections with many others in her tribe. She clearly was an atypical person to find in this hellhole, and she probably had an atypical biography to share with those who'd listen.

"Oooh! Good question," Rikku responded. "Wow. I wish I knew the answer."

"You don't know?" This seemed a bit suspicious. Why would a blabbermouth like her spew endlessly about her love life, but refuse to share any generic detail about her life's story?

"I haven't the slightest clue, actually," said Rikku. For a moment, she seemed unusually pensive and withdrawn from the conversation. At the very least, my question resulted in an unexpected benefit. I ensured myself a precious moment of silence.

"Do you suffer from... _amnesia_ or something?"

"No no _NO_!" Rikku exclaimed, with an unexpected tone of agitation. "Amnesia? Are you kidding me? No. At least, I don't think so. At least...I hope not? I was raised here, I guess. My earliest memories...they're here, in this town. But I don't remember anything before I was ten. Doesn't that seem pretty...weird, to you? Most people I know have memories of when they were really young, four or five. I don't remember anything before...five years ago."

"That is strange," I said. It sounded eerily familiar, too. "Are you an orphan?"

Rikku shot me a nasty glare that lasted for just a moment. I hoped she realized that I was attempting to express a degree of emphatic concern, and was not trying to derisively label her an outcast. "...It depends on how you define a 'family.' My tribe...my Al Bhed family. They all take care of me. They protect me, and I'd do anything for them."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better," I said. "I know how you feel. I was separated from my biological parents when I was very young." I was also raised by a top-secret organization, perhaps a more professional sort of a 'tribe.' I wasn't about to add that tidbit of knowledge to my statements, though. My affiliation with FOXHOUND wasn't likely to trouble Rikku (who'd probably never even heard of us), but this girl wasn't the type to keep secrets.

"Do you...miss them?" Rikku asked, staring at me with those lovely emerald eyes. If I was a younger man…

…Wait. Her emerald eyes were missing something. _Pupils_. There were spirals in her eyes, not pupils.

 _Shit_ , I thought to myself, as I was caught off-guard by this revelation. Even as an operative who had plenty of experiences with eccentrics and nutcases, this was surprisingly disturbing.

"Not really," was my eventual response to her inquiry. I was telling her the truth, albeit in the vaguest possible way. Having killed my so-called father, it was difficult to pretend I missed his company.

"Neither do I," Rikku replied. "Of course, I don't remember mine. I've been told they were killed around the time of the Diaspora."

I nodded. "So you really don't remember anything before 2004? That's..." The word I wanted to use is 'unlikely,' but I hesitated before pulling the metaphorical trigger. Rikku's memory loss could have been linked to a form of post-traumatic stress disorder. The Diaspora was one of the greatest and most flagrant examples of Link's abuses of power, and thousands upon thousands of people had suffered the consequences. I didn't want to imagine exactly what must have happened to force Rikku into involuntarily repressing her childhood memories. At the very least, though, Rikku's story seemed to imply that she wouldn't dare find employment with Link's Administration.

"It's sad, I guess," said Rikku. "But I don't think much about it, you know? My philosophy is, always concentrate on the future. You can't change the past. Memories are nice, but that's all they are. So there's no sense in being nostalgic for what's lost, you'd just be wasting your time. But the future? Anything's possible, David! And that's what I remind myself, every day. No sense thinking about Tidus and what a jerk he was! Nope! He's in the past, and Yosuke is my future!"

"...Tee-dus? I'm guessing he's your ex-boyfriend?"

"I told you I _didn't_ want to talk about him!" Rikku scowled as she jumped up and down with an exaggerated fury. Given her demeanor and her expression, it was difficult to tell whether she was being serious or taking a light-hearted joke too far.

"Excuse me? _You_ brought him up. I'm just trying to understand who or what it is you're ranting about," I said.

"Oh!" Rikku sighed. "Fine. Yes, Tidus was my boyfriend. But then he betrayed me. He tore my heart to shreds! I would have given him anything he asked for, and he threw me right out of his life! Men! All they care about is sex, and the moment you give them what they want, they'll find some excuse to end the relationship! Tidus lied to me about commitment, about his plans for our future, about everything...and back then, I was stupid enough to believe his stories!"

"Aren't you a bit young to worry about all this?" I asked. I typically wasn't the type to lecture children on inappropriate behavior, but I desperately hoped she would stop complaining.

"Nuh-uh!" This and an exaggerated shake of her head constituted Rikku's enthusiastic answer. "I'm fifteen years old! Some girls are even younger when…"

I cut her off. I didn't want to hear the details. No upstanding man with a sense of values would. "Is Tidus a member of the Al Bhed tribe, too?" I asked.

"He was, back when I loved him. Now he's living above the slums, in Neo Hyrule, with some overpriced bitch and her family. I guess he's moving right up the ladder, huh? I always knew he was ambitious, but I never thought he'd use his greed as an excuse to..."

"His loss," I retorted, hoping to draw the diatribe to a close.

"Yes! Yes, David! You're absolutely right. It was _his_ loss. I can tell you're a great guy. I bet you treat your girlfriends like princesses!"

Rikku was wrong, but I had no interest in correcting her. She was entitled to think as highly of me as she wanted. "...Can I ask you another question?"

"Sure! But, can you wait until after we're done at the marketplace? We're almost there already, and I'm starving."

I realized that I was also hungry; my stomach had been running on fumes for several hours. I haven't eaten much more than a quick meal of Otacon's stale rations all day, the only kind of food I bothered to take with me, and these provisions were not exactly examples of the finest cuisines. Even in the festering underbelly of Terminy, better culinary options were probably available. "All right. Sounds like a plan."

Five minutes later, I was surrounded by a disorganized sprawl of rotten plywood and loose bricks. This was my warm welcome to the bustling centerpiece of the marketplace in the seventh sector slums, where the rights of men and women were sold for profit, where the children were less expensive than knives, where the dreams of mankind had been crushed into coins of gil. I had seen battlefields less gruesome than this den of macabre sin.

I instinctively made a mental checklist of my inventory. There were at least a few trinkets of value for sale here, and when I had spare time I would benefit from pursuing bartering opportunities. While I didn't bring any money, my decision to bring six chaff and six stun grenades could prove useful here. I possessed enough excess grenades to consider trading a couple away with virtual anonymity.

I could even consider trading my cigarettes...

…No. There were some lines Solid Snake would _never_ cross. The cigarettes would stay with me, and that was not negotiable.

A quick analysis of the marketplace revealed the kinds of goods I would find there. Most firearms were strictly out of the question. The few that were available were so poor in quality and value that the tranquilizer shots from my Beretta pistol would prove more effective. Explosives, most notably Molotov cocktails, were in much greater abundance. I noted that if I did decide to sell a grenade at the market, it would probably be easier to pretend it was the traditional variety. Few would recognize the comparatively advanced stun and chaff models. Chaff grenades, in these slums, would prove largely useless. The seventh sector slums were reasonably well-lit, but a level of electrical access to run most advanced utilities was out of the question. Only Tommy Vercetti and his goons were likely to have access to electronic security systems.

Most of the weapons for sale were of the melee variety, with knives constituting the dominant option. A few bludgeoning weapons, like hammers and maces, were also available. A couple merchants seemed to offer a collection of leather armor, but with my top-of-the-line stealth suit in my suitcase, combat attire seemed irrelevant to my interests. There were slavers in abundance, though the most prominent hub for the slave trade appeared to be a series of tents in a partitioned area called 'Paradise Falls.' A black man in a rusted red trenchcoat seemed to pay particularly close attention to the proceedings there. I noticed that he was glaring in our direction. He was probably more interested in Rikku than myself, but his attention served to fuel my paranoia. I refused to acknowledge the man and concentrated on the rest of my surroundings. A large tent labeled 'Nook's Cranny' seemed to have a wide variety of 'everyday items,' though the 'NO AL BEHD' sign next to the store was intimidating. Rikku, for her part, seemed nonplussed, only bothering to point out that 'Bhed' was misspelled.

Rikku's presence alongside me proved problematic. I couldn't afford to make any transactions with her hovering around. I wasn't entirely convinced that I could trust her just yet, and I didn't want to draw any unnecessary suspicion. I concluded that it would be best to return here alone in the near future.

"So, where exactly are we going?" I said.

"To Junes, of course! That's the store Yosuke's father owns! Yosuke works there, too. I have to check up on him, after all."

"Junes?" Rikku's indignation made it seem like I should have been familiar with it, but I had never heard of Junes before.

"Junes is the most sturdy building left in the marketplace!" Rikku replied. "It used to be a huge chain filled with valuable electronics. Then, Link prevented the underworld sectors from having access to most of the mako energy, and things became problematic."

"That was just after the Diaspora, in 2005. The energy situation in Termina got desperate," I responded.

"Silly politicians. They should have known there'd be consequences for forcing everyone to move here," said Rikku.

"The infrastructure was pretty strained, I'd imagine."

"Still, that's no excuse!" Rikku shouted. "It's terrible, what they've done! Yosuke and his family used to be rich. Now they're struggling to make ends meet. They only sell food, these days. And the food is..."

"Let me guess. Terrible."

" _DAVID_! Don't say such things! Yosuke's poor mother should slap you on sight! Those are her recipes, and they're just fine!"

"...Okay. But what were you going to say? Before I interrupted you? The food was...'"

Rikku was silent for a few seconds. "...I, I was..." She struggled to find the right words to say. "...I was, I...h-hey, not fair! I was just going to say they...they're not very good."

I could barely restrain myself. Two syllables of hearty laughter escaped my lips.

"H-hey!" yelled Rikku. "It's okay if I say something's wrong with Junes' meat stews. They're awful! But, you know how hard it is to grow anything down here? Without natural sunlight? And the meat...you know how hard it is to raise livestock down here? Do you?"

I shrug. "Well...I'm about to find out."

The food was every bit as terrible as Rikku implied it would be. The chunks of meat, presumably from domesticated chocobos, was borderline inedible. The vegetables in the stew tasted like varying degrees of sandpaper. I realized that I had been spoiled lately with some comparatively decent cooking from the few fortunate enough to still live in Kalm. Compared to a majority of Termina's citizens, I had been living like a prince. For Rikku and for many others, this sludge represented a fairly typical meal.

Still, I couldn't complain. Upon informing Rikku I was broke, she offered to buy me dinner. I ended up praising her for false generosity, however, as it turned out that Rikku received a 'family discount' at Junes, and both our meals were free. Rikku did not bother introducing me to Yosuke's mother, for fear that I might have been inappropriately identified as a competitor vying for the young girl's affections. Despite my grievances with the thought of dating a teenager, Rikku's concerns were not unfounded. These days, such an arrangement among partners was more common than I liked.

Rikku was disappointed to learn that Yosuke was not present. Apparently, he had cut off his shift early, and was already back in the Al Bhed safehouse. Yosuke and his family, like Rikku, had joined the Al Bhed tribe. Apparently, boys and girls in the seventh sector slums were encouraged to exclusively date fellow tribe members, an arrangement that...given just how familial these tribes were...seemed just a tad incestuous. There was clearly some rancor between the three tribes, but I decided against asking for Rikku's biased opinion on the subject. I'd need to look for someone without a stake in the conflict to give me a better perspective as to exactly why these tribes existed and how they operated.

Rikku was eager to return to Yosuke and the rest of her 'family,' so she asked if we could sip our stews on the way back to the Al Bhed safehouse. I agreed, as it was getting colder by the minute, and the thought of staying out as the night's chilled air invaded the slums was not comforting.

"Can I ask my next question now?"

"Of course, David. Fire away! I was told to treat you as a member of our tribe, so...ask me anything!" said Rikku.

"I hope you don't misinterpret why I'm asking this question, but it's important for me to know the answer. How do you know about communications nanotechnology?"

The question seemed to startle Rikku. To the furthest extent of my knowledge, nanotechnology in general was a FOXHOUND secret. Long before Link became President, the Colonel had hidden nearly every detail of the technology from prying eyes. Operation Philanthropy never would have had a chance to get off the ground if not for the Colonel's posthumous gift of the presumed secrecy of our Codec conversations.

"Oh, well, uhh...I'm not supposed to tell you," Rikku mutters. For once, she actually stared at the ground, twiddling her fingers in a state that seemed relatively devoid of enthusiasm.

"You're supposed to treat me as a member of your tribe! I thought I could ask you anything," I responded. "And it's really important to me."

"I don't really understand how much of it works, honestly," Rikku replied. "I've only been told the basics. But, you see...I'm really interested in electronics, right? It's kind of ridiculous, given that I live out here in the underworld, but I've always dreamed about finding a way to supply energy to the people here. There's a single computer terminal at Al Bhed headquarters, next to the safehouse! Not too many people know about it, of course, it's all kept hush-hush. But _he_ lets me use it. He's so nice to me, really. You could call him my father."

"Who is _he_?" I asked.

"You see! That's what I can't tell you!" said Rikku. "He said not to tell you. You'll meet him yourself."

"I'll take a wild guess and say he's the leader of the Al Bhed tribe." I wondered for a moment whether Luigi Mario had fallen so far from grace as to become interested in a tribal leadership position.

"You'd be right, b-but...darn it! Darn you, David! Shush! I've already told you too much!"

I can tell this was only aggravating Rikku, so I decided to drop the subject. Since Rikku already knew about the nanotechnology, I figured it wouldn't hurt to ask my partners with my inner voice.

 _"Otacon, Phoenix, can either of you hear me?"_

 _"I can, Snake, but Hal's busy right now. We have...a few issues developing that we need to inform you..."_

 _"Can it wait a while, Phoenix? I can't talk long. I just have a question for you to handle."_

 _"Okay, Snake, shoot,"_ Phoenix responded, though I can tell something else weighed heavily on his mind.

 _"What, haven't you been paying attention to my conversation with this girl? You should know what I'm going to ask..."_

 _"Sorry, Snake, we've been...busy, as I said. I'm trying to read this report...I haven't really..."_

 _"Phoenix. This young girl I'm with. Rikku. She knows about communications nanotechnology. She recognized that I was using it during our last conversation. How is that possible?"_

 ** _"H-hold it!"_** If Phoenix's arm could stretch long enough to reach Termina, I'm sure it would. I could only imagine him wagging his finger back and forth, trying to compose himself after hearing this news. _"That's i-impossible! She knows? About nanotechnology? Even I didn't know about this until I joined you guys..."_

 _"I know. It strikes me as...very suspicious. Apparently, the leader of the Al Bhed tribe told Rikku that I'd have this technology. She recognized that I was using the Codec system the minute my face went blank when I stopped chatting with her to check in with you. You need to check the internet, check any sources available, and see who this person is..."_

 _"I'm on it, Snake! But...if the leader of the Al Bhed tribe was expecting you, that could only mean Luigi Mario told him. I can't think of any other possible explanation. And, if Luigi knew you were using nanotechnology..."_

 _"I know, Phoenix. This could turn into a huge mess if we don't act soon. If Link's Administration knows about nanotechnology and can hack into our transmissions, we'd be in huge trouble."_

 _"Well, Snake...we're in much more trouble than you think already. Otacon will have to give you the news later. Right now, we're still trying to interpret exactly what this news means. Be sure to give us a call tonight, after you find a place to stay."_

 _"Will do, Phoenix. Stay safe."_

 _"Hey, Snake. You can call me Nick, you k-"_

I cut off the transmission prematurely. Rikku was staring me down, a knowing smirk covering her face, her petite body still bouncing vigorously with each step she took.

"You're talking to that friend of yours again," Rikku playfully sung in a melodic voice, pretending to sound disappointed. "You don't think I'm worthy of your time?"

"No, I just, uhh...I had to clarify something," I replied.

"Whatever you're up to, you must have some crazy goals, using technology like that here in the slums," said Rikku. "Say...don't tell me...you're not here to shut down the Vercetti mafioso, are you? Maybe the politicians above us have finally realized Vercetti's breaking all kinds of laws! That's what you're here for, isn't it? That's why you approached Vercetti at Seventh Heaven! Oh, I'm so sorry Cid ruined your chance..."

"No," I responded. "Though you're braver than I gave you credit for to blather on about executing Vercetti in public," Of course, there was also the possibility that Rikku is secretly working for Vercetti and keeping tabs on outsiders. In that case, Rikku could have been attempting to goad me into revealing intentions that could have resulted in death. At this rate, Rikku could be working for nearly _anyone_ and I doubt I'd be surprised.

"I'm, just curious...that's all," said Rikku.

"While we're on the subject of Vercetti, though. Could you tell me more about Vercetti's organization? You and others at Seventh Heaven referred to it as a 'mafioso' before..."

"Y-yes! It's just like the Junon Mafiate was! Only worse! Worse, if you could believe it!" Rikku exclaimed. The Junon Mafiate...that was an expression I hadn't heard in years. They went out of business before Rikku was even born. "Vercetti runs an organized crime syndicate down here, and no one's bothered to stop him! Everyone upstairs...they're all blind to what's happening down here!"

My own conjecture was that Link and everyone else 'upstairs' was enabling and empowering Vercetti to get away with this. This was idle conjecture that I wouldn't share with Rikku. "An organized crime syndicate? What do you mean?"

"It's a little complicated...and I'm not sure if I could explain it to you very well," Rikku muttered. "I don't understand half of it. Vercetti controls nearly all the real estate here. Most the habitable buildings...the real ones, not the tents, but the properties with real floors and walls...they're Vercetti's. Before the Diaspora, he purchased everything here dirt cheap. He must have been really smart to have guessed the Diaspora would lead to such high competition for such trashy places to live!"

Really smart or really well informed, I thought. I would have hedged a bet on the latter. "So, everyone had to go to Vercetti to negotiate to live as tenants on his property."

"Right! All three of the tribes have to stay in Vercetti's favor to keep our safehouses and our headquarters. The Al Bhed safehouse was once an elementary school, and our headquarters was once a firehouse...back when these slums used to be like a real town."

"Makes sense. The effects of the Diaspora would have absolutely destroyed any sense of civil ordinance in the slums. This district transformed overnight into virtual anarchy, and Vercetti was here to enforce a new system. I'm sure he made a hefty profit," I said.

"Right," said Rikku. "Now Vercetti is practically the law of the land. Everyone in the underworld, anyone who wants to be somebody...to just have constant access to electricity and running water, even...has to work for Tommy Vercetti. And unless someone above us decides to put an end to Vercetti...no one can stop him."

"Does Vercetti own the entire underworld, or just the seventh sector?" I asked.

"Just here," Rikku said. "There are eight plates on top of us...most of them hold the townships of Termina. They use a similar partitioning system to divide the slums. We're beneath the seventh plate, Neo Ikana, so we're the sector seven slums. Vercetti owns this sector, and it's virtually impossible these days to travel from one to the other."

"That's strange. I didn't think security was that tight," I replied.

"It's easy to get into Termina, but nearly impossible to move around once you're inside. You have to own passports to get anywhere, and there's all sorts of arcane rules and regulations...it's really a pain," Rikku sighed. "It's what we're stuck with, I guess. Link says these are sacrifices we must make to be safe."

"From terrorists?"

"Yeah. Everyone's afraid of another Avalanche," said Rikku.

"I see."

"Yeah...I don't know much about the other sectors, but a friend of Vercetti's, a guy named Claude, owns most the real estate in Liberty City in sector six. Claude and Vercetti have special passports, so they visit each other all the time. According to rumors, Vercetti was just in sector six a few days ago. Rumors always fly about with those two. One day they're conspiring a rebellion against Link, the next they're conspiring to work with him and collect outrageous taxes. No one knows what's going to happen next."

"Where does Vercetti live?" I figured it wouldn't hurt to know this.

"I hope you're not thinking of going there anytime soon," Rikku said, in something close to a soft whisper. "Vercetti doesn't take kindly to most visitors. You saw what he did to Cid, and that's just at the bar he frequents for free drinks. His base is in the old police headquarters, downtown. It's only a few blocks from the marketplace. Be careful, though. In addition to his grunts, Vercetti has seven bodyguards, and they're all equipped with dangerous weapons. The kind you won't see anywhere else in the slums."

Seven bodyguards? At least Vercetti wasn't nearly as well defended as Link. Still, taking Vercetti's financial empire down wasn't exactly part of Operation Philanthropy's mission statement. In fact, disposing of Vercetti might lead to the kind of instability Link's administration would readily notice. The ramifications of such an execution might endanger the mission.

"Well, we're almost there," said Rikku, as she twirled a strand of her caramel blonde hair with one finger. "You see? That's what's left of the elementary school. That's our safehouse. We converted it to a series of bedrooms for Al Bhed members to stay in. We're much better protected in there than we would be in tents or cardboard boxes."

"Actually, I wouldn't mind a cardboard box," I replied. "Sounds comfy."

"David! Stop goofing off!" Rikku exclaimed. "Seriously, a box? What kind of a homeless vagrant are you? You'll be much safer in the safehouse!"

"Hmph. Well, it's getting late..."

"Yeah, I should take you inside. Unless you have other plans?"

"Actually..."

 **STATUS:**

 **Weapons:** Beretta M9 tranquilizer pistol, six chaff grenades, and six stun grenades.

 **Social Links:**

 _Level One:_  
Rikku

 **Support Links:** _Phoenix Wright, Hal Emmerich._

 **DECISION:**

 **How should Snake spend this evening?**

 **A:** Move into the Al Bhed safehouse for the night; ask to stay in your own room. **_(Chosen, five votes.)_**  
 **B:** Move into the Al Bhed safehouse for the night; ask to stay in Rikku's room. _(Not chosen, zero votes.)_  
 **C:** Move into the Al Bhed safehouse for the night; ask to stay in Yosuke's room. _(Not chosen, four votes.)_  
 **D:** Ask Rikku to accompany you to the Al Bhed headquarters and attempt to meet the Al Bhed leader. _(Not chosen, one vote.)_  
 **E:** Tell Rikku you'll be back later tonight. Go back to the marketplace alone. _(Not chosen, two votes.)_  
 **F:** Ask Rikku to go journey back to Seventh Heaven with you. _(Not chosen, zero votes.)_  
 **G:** Tell Rikku you'll be back later tonight. Travel back to Seventh Heaven alone. _(Not chosen, one vote.)_


	6. Exposition (Part One)

**  
_January 14th, 2009_   
**

"...I think you're right, Rikku. It's been a long day, and I could use the rest. I appreciate your tribe's offer to accommodate me," I said, after a moment of awkward silence. Trusting Rikku and the Al Bhed seemed a risky proposition, but to deny their offer was to invite even more danger. Though the intriguing temptation of living in the ethereal confines of a cardboard box had lingered in the recesses of my mind, I had to remain realistic. These streets were not safe havens for weary travelers, and all my years of hardened combat experience would be irrelevant the moment I closed my eyes. At the very least, the Al Bhed safehouse would provide a roof over my head and a substantial degree of security. Besides, in this forgotten cesspool of wretched existence, there really was no perfect place to stay, and no one to trust with certainty.

Rikku's gregarious behavior was a minor annoyance, but her nonchalant musings and her transparent benevolence did not suggest a secret identity as an assassin. In my earlier days as a covert operative, I was trained to distinguish certain verbal and nonverbal cues so I could determine whether a person of interest was lying or telling the truth. Rikku's mannerisms seemed authentic, so I had no reason to doubt her credibility. I decided to follow Rikku's advice, albeit with a fair degree of vigilance.

"That's great! David, you're really going to like it here. I promise that you and Yosuke will get along so well! I can't wait for you to meet him!" Rikku was jumping up and down like a young child at a candy store. I didn't know whether to laugh or to moan at her hysterics.

"Actually, Rikku...I think I'd prefer my own room, if that would be possible," I said. I quickly realized that I needed to scramble to find an appropriate excuse to satiate her curiosity. Most newcomers to the Al Bhed tribe were likely expected to stay with others. Living quarters in the slums were probably limited. "I think...I think others may misinterpret my usage of nanotechnology. I'm sure Yosuke would think I was a pretty strange guy, just staring blankly at the wall..."

"Oh. I understand," said Rikku, with a tone of resignation. I nearly sighed with relief once I realized that she had implicitly confirmed that most the others in the Al Bhed tribe knew nothing about my communications nanotechnology. "I'm sorry. I really want you to spend time with Yosuke, you know. I think you'd become fast friends!"

I privately doubted the veracity of Rikku's latest statement. "I look forward to meeting Yosuke, but it'd be best for us both to stay in separate rooms. I hope there will be a vacant room for me?"

"I think so! Still, we Al Bhed are popular these days! There's plenty of people here who'd sell all their possessions to join our tribe, but we don't just hand out free invitations! And this school isn't that large...there's maybe about twenty classrooms, a few offices, a gym and an auditorium. We've converted them all into bedrooms. Most the rooms fit more than one person. But our leader expected you'd want your own space, so...he made... _something_ available."

I shot Rikku a curious glance. "That doesn't sound like a ringing endorsement. I'm guessing this room I'll have to myself is..."

"...A tiny janitor's closet. Yup! Not much space at all, David. You'll be squished like a teeny-weeny bug in there!" Rikku made a few motions with her hands, her fingers mimicking a tiny insect trapped in a cramped space. "That's why I wanted you to consider staying at Yosuke's. If you don't trust him...well...my place would be…"

"No, no, _no_ , thank you," I replied. Despite Rikku's awkward efforts to act the part of a cordial host, I could tell she was no more enthusiastic about the prospect of sharing a room than I was. Hospitality had its limits, and I had little interest in being the inevitable subject of tawdry rumors. "You have been kind enough already. I'd expect that a tribe as close-knit as yours would not take my presence in your bedroom lightly."

"I agree, it'd be better for us to avoid that," said Rikku. As much as I hated to admit it, my selfish pride took a blow when I realized there was no hint of disappointment in her voice. "A guy like you and a girl like me in the same room...that'd be one way to start some nasty gossip. Still, I've been taught to be polite to guests! Maybe Yosuke and I could stay together for a while, and you could take his space in his room? I could ask if…"

"That won't be necessary," I said. "Trust me. If I could feel at home in a cardboard box, I can definitely make do with a janitor's closet. I haven't brought much with me. It won't be an inconvenience."

Rikku's expression lightened up again, that familiar perkiness returning to her hyperactive body. "Okay! Sounds great, David! Oh, I can't wait to introduce you to everyone! Oh, you'll definitely meet Odessa, and she's such a sweetheart. Don't you dare think the wrong way about her, though, David...Flik will tear you to shreds and feed you to the sharks! And Flik! He's amazing! He's one of our heroes. They call him Blue Thunder. And it's no wonder! I'm afraid of lightning...did I tell you that, yet? I'm serious! A single bolt of lightning and the sound of thunder...it scares me to death! When a thunderstorm happens here, we don't experience the rain, but the plates above shake and roar with every strike. My imagination runs wild! It's so terrifying!"

Nothing short of divine intervention from a compassionate deity could spare me from this misery. My prayers remained unanswered, as the girl continued to share her thoughts in an undulating stream of consciousness.

"…So I should be afraid of Flik, right? But I'm not! Because Flik, he's such a softie, and really a sweetheart...he puts up this facade of being such a tough guy, but it's all an act. You should see how his heart melts around Odessa...so romantic! And you'd like Flik because you both wear those blue bandannas! I'm not kidding, his is _just_ like yours! Then there's Heishiro Mitsurugi. He can be a little old-fashioned at times...I don't think he appreciates modern technology like I do. He really is an honorable man though, and you can definitely trust his word! If you meet him, be sure to be respectful. Heishiro has fought in a lot of battles against our enemies and he's a real master with a katana. Of course, Yosuke's family provides us with most the food, so don't you dare say anything nasty about their cooking! It's their pride and joy! And then there's Amir. He's absolutely amazing! He's also my mentor and I'm so proud to know him! He's a real acrobat and he's taught me nearly everything I know about pickpocketing, but ever since Farah disappeared..."

"...Rikku."

"...yes, David?"

"...I'm sorry, it's just, I'm not feeling well. I have a bit of a migraine..."

Rikku let out a short gasp, her swirled irises enlarging with a sudden jolt of recognition. "Oh, no! I'm so sorry, David! I didn't know you suffered from migraines! Oh, you're just like Yosuke...and Tidus used to suffer from headaches too, now that I think of it! Gosh, so many men I know get migraines! Don't worry. We have plenty of medicine available in the safehouse and I'll be sure to let you get plenty of rest tonight!"

Much to my surprise, Rikku was right all along. Despite our many apparent differences, Yosuke and I had something in common.

We were both damned good liars.

Once a bastion of knowledge and learning, the building formerly known as the seventh district slum's elementary school had decomposed along with the rest of the underworld. Its appearance was deceiving, in large part because its outer walls of concrete remained fully intact and in functional condition. Compared to most the other buildings in the slums, the school's architecture seemed structurally sound. Many jealous onlookers unassociated with the Al Bhed would certainly gaze upon this facility with envy. Jealousy was an appropriate emotion to associate with this safehouse, as a cascade of emerald light illuminated the structure and provided a surreal aesthetic feel to its environs.

As we entered the safehouse, Rikku informed me that green was selected as the color associated with the Al Bhed. The Al Bhed used what little electric power they could afford to mark their territory. This was an action all the tribes in the seventh sector felt compelled to take, even though this offered little tangible benefit for their members. All three tribes in the seventh sector were stuck in a perpetual cycle of hostilities, forced to battle each other over excruciatingly limited resources. Anyone who dared to attempt to unite the tribes would be taking a spectacular risk, but if such unity could be achieved, an integrated force of warriors from the tribes could probably tear apart the establishment in the underworld.

The Al Bhed safehouse represented a clear example of the futility of outward projection. Based on its exterior appearance, one would garner the false impression that the Al Bhed was a force of stability in the wastelands, a feared organization to be reckoned with. Inside the school's double-doors, however, was a chaotic mess of empty boxes, scattered litter, leaking pipes, and broken glass. The majority of the fluorescent lights inside the compound were not functional, and the few that remained flickered on and off. The atmosphere was reminiscent of a ghastly setting in a second-rate horror movie.

The front doors were unlocked, and Rikku and I simply strolled in without causing an incident. In the entrance hall, two burly men with rifles confronted us. Rikku simply nodded and said "Hello," which was apparently all the men needed to hear to let us pass.

"Did you go to a public school as a kid, David, or were you homeschooled?" Rikku asked.

This was not a question I anticipated. "I went to a...unique school," I said, parsing my words carefully. "You and I have a bit in common, actually. I don't remember much of my childhood, to be honest. Why are you asking?"

"Well, here's the deal. We don't exactly have a map of the safehouse for anyone to read, but I can give you a basic description," said Rikku. "I'll keep it short and sweet, too, since I know you're not feeling well! On the first floor you'll find most the classrooms, the auditorium and the gym. All those rooms were converted into bedrooms for our tribe members. Most importantly, though, there's a nurse's office. It's Room 104-C. We don't have very sophisticated stuff here, but only Vercetti has better medical equipment in this district. There's also the principal's office, that's Room 101. Odessa works there, and our single working computer...believe it or not, we have a computer, but it's not very glamorous and it doesn't always work..."

"I thought you said you'd keep this short," I remarked.

"Hey! David! I-I'm just trying to help!" Rikku pouted.

"...I know. I'm sorry. Continue." Phoenix was right. I had to make a conscious and continual effort to improve my social skills to give Operation Philanthropy a fighting chance of succeeding.

"...Anyway, Odessa's job is to handle the administrative side of things, so that's where we're headed now. She's the one who will give you access to your room. She's a wonderful woman! Please treat her with the utmost respect. If you don't, you won't have many friends in the Al Bhed!" Rikku exclaimed. "The cafeteria is Room 127. It includes a cafeteria that's been stocked by Yosuke's parents, and a tavern. You can drink alcohol in there, and it's also the only public room in the safehouse where you can smoke...if you're into that kind of thing."

That was _exactly_ what I needed to hear. "Good news. I'll be sure to stop by whenever I feel the urge."

If looks could kill, Rikku's would result in a premature burial. "D-David! You really shouldn't smoke! It's a terrible habit! No wonder you're getting such nasty migraines!"

"...I'm pretty sure there's no correlation between the two," I said. I was already beginning to regret feigning that migraine.

"Oh, David! Now I'm going to worry sick about you!" Rikku sighed.

"That's your choice," I curtly replied. "If I were you, I'd let it slide. A very good friend of mine has tried to convince me to stop for years now. I've never listened."

"Well, don't you go crying to me the moment your black lungs explode!" shouted Rikku. "...Moving on...if you ever need to get in touch with me, I have my own room. It's Room 134. Most of the classrooms have been partitioned into separate rooms with flimsy dividers, but I managed to acquire enough gil to buy my own space."

"Sounds more like you _stole_ enough..."

"You and your rotten assumptions, David!"

"Since you gave me a hard time about smoking, I felt like returning the favor."

"...You're a crafty little serpent sometimes, you know? And let me tell you, I _really_ hate snakes!" I silently reminded myself to never reveal my FOXHOUND codename to the Al Bhed girl. "You should be thankful I like you enough to stomach your jabs. Yosuke's a better man than you, though. He'd never talk back to a fine lady," said Rikku, her tone shifting to a prim and proper accent. I couldn't tell whether she was joking around or if she intended me to take her seriously. "Your room will be on the second floor, and so is Yosuke's. His room is Room 218. He splits the place with my mentor, Amir."

"Why doesn't Yosuke live with his family?" I asked. "Don't they all live here?"

"They do, but Yosuke's not a young boy anymore!" said Rikku. "We're not little kids just because we're younger than you, David. A year ago, I convinced Amir to let Yosuke live with him. My boyfriend has to learn to become an independent man, after all! Someday, he's going to be the one responsible for Junes! It may no longer be a huge empire like it used to be, but Yosuke's going to have to take on a lot of responsibility! And he's going to have to provide for me, too!"

"So, Amir took him in?"

"Of course he did! Yosuke's family lives right next door, in Room 217, so it's no big deal."

"You'll have to tell me more about Amir sometime," I replied. "He sounds...interesting."

"Well, you could have stayed with him and Yosuke, but you chose not to," Rikku retorted. I felt like reminding Rikku that she hadn't mentioned Amir's existence before giving me the choice, but I refused to indulge the feisty blonde in another argument. Every person I exposed myself to was another person who could betray me and ruin Operation Philanthropy. I needed to think long and hard before committing myself to making any new friends. "You can visit Room 218 anytime, David. Amir's not around often. Our leader keeps him busy. But Yosuke's around all the time, and he's the sweetest, friendliest, most dedicated guy I know!"

"Where will my room be?" I inquired.

"Odessa will tell you. I'll introduce you to her, but then I'm going to take off! I haven't seen Yosuke all day. I hope he's not worried about me!"

Yosuke was undoubtedly enjoying a pleasant vacation away from the ceaseless bombardment of words that oozed out of this girl's mouth. I would owe him an apology for failing to spare him from another one of his terrible migraines.

Rikku took a few moments to compose herself before entering Room 101. Whoever this Odessa woman was, Rikku clearly wanted to maintain an aura of professionalism around her. As she verbally prepared a short introductory speech, I noticed that her voice drifted an octave lower. In the meantime, I had to force myself to withhold from lighting a cigarette. It had been far too long since I last enjoyed the sweet scent of nicotine. As I waited for Rikku to finally make her move, I reminded myself that I owed no particular obligation to the Al Bhed. Operation Philantrophy would depend upon the involvement of individuals from all kinds of organizations, and there were a great many places to venture and recruit in Termina. I could have simply decided to spend one night here, and never return.

At long last, Rikku's natural impulsiveness outweighed whatever dread or anticipation she felt. She opened the door, and I followed her inside.

The room once known as the Principal's Office had been converted to serve a very different purpose. The waiting area now housed a single computer, and the secretary's desk was covered with stacks of papers. Posters adorning the walls detailed all kinds of Al Bhed regulations and threatened punishments upon those who disobeyed. The Al Bhed symbol of an emerald-green colored spiral was prominent in these posters, with its tint matching the color of Rikku's eyes. The actual office where the Principal once worked, separated from the common area by its own wooden door, appeared to be inaccessible to the vast majority of the Al Bhed tribesmen. In contrast to the rest of the safehouse, this area was well-lit, with every electronic appliance benefiting from access to electricity.

Odessa appeared to be the redheaded woman sitting behind the secretary's desk. When Rikku and I entered, she did not bother to lift her gaze to greet us. "Ms. S-S-i-lverberg, m'am!" Rikku said, practically impersonating a seasoned military officer, raising her arm to complete the motion of a half-hearted salute. "Rikku is here and reporting for..."

"That is absolutely unnecessary," said Odessa. A single glance in her direction quickly revealed at least one reason why most of the Al Bhed may have worshipped the ground she stood on. Odessa was an extraordinarily attractive woman, albeit in a way that differentiated her from a woman like Tifa. She was probably only in her mid-twenties, but her authoritative position within the Al Bhed community left a clear mark on her appearance. Her cerulean eyes possessed the piercing stare of a strict librarian, and she exuded an aura of unmatched intelligence and integrity. Her auburn hair, a rare and exquisite raspberry shade, glided down the sides of her neck and ended several inches beneath and behind her shoulders. She flashed a brief smile at me, and I nodded politely in her direction. Odessa had almost certainly anticipated my arrival. She may have been strictly professional, but Odessa did not seem the type of person who held any degree of contempt or distrust towards strangers. I concluded that despite her outward projection of dispassionate proficiency, Odessa was probably either extraordinarily empathic, or dangerously naive.

"My name is David," I said, offering the woman a firm handshake. "Nice to meet you."

"I am Odessa Silverberg. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I assume you're the man that _he_ said would be arriving tonight. If so, you have my sincere gratitude. _He_ has told me many wonderful things, and I look forward to serving you in any capacity I can. So long as you have _his_ blessing, you are honored guest of the Al Bhed," Odessa replied. I found her friendliness and her lofty opinion of me somewhat unsettling. A series of unanswered questions ran through my mind as I wondered exactly who the leader of the Al Bhed was and why he expected me. No figure of such prominence in Link's administration as Luigi Mario, General Mario's younger brother, would have become a leader of a tribe in the slums. Did Luigi contact this Al Bhed leader? If so, why would Luigi lie to Otacon and Phoenix regarding meeting him in Seventh Heaven? If not, who else would be aware of the secret details of my mission? Had someone successfully hacked into our nanotechnology frequencies? Was Operation Philanthropy already at risk of being compromised?

"...I...I don't know what to say to that. Can I ask you who this person is?"

"Rikku and I were explicitly told not to divulge that information until the preordained meeting," Odessa responded. She spoke in a very composed, formal manner, as if she had rehearsed these exact words for weeks. Even still, I could see the subtle tics of displeasure in the fluctuations of her voice, and I could tell she was privately uncomfortable with this arrangement. "Most of the others in Al Bhed do not know him personally, and those that do have been instructed not to address the subject with strangers. I apologize if this answer upsets you, as I am sure you have plenty of questions to ask. I will be of as much use to you as I can, but please understand that I can not defy _his_ instructions. It is through _his_ grace that the Al Bhed has become a sanctuary in this city."

Odessa's testimony was probably every bit as biased as Rikku's. Nonetheless, Al Bhed did seem to offer its people some degree of protection from the common ruffians and vagabonds of the slums. Both Rikku and Odessa defied every expectation I had of the kind of independent women I'd find here, which was a positive sign. "Rikku told me I needed to come here to get access to my own room?"

"Ah, I see," Odessa replied. " _He_ made sure to have a room ready for you. However, we have nearly run out of rooms for the members of our tribe, and space is somewhat limited. If we have to buy more real estate from Tommy Vercetti anytime soon...I don't want to think of how much it'd cost us."

"I understand," I said. "I don't need to stay long..."

"No!" For a split second Odessa lost the façade of her organized and capable persona. Her eyebrows jumped, her eyes widened and the tiniest fraction of a palpable emotion escaped from her. "Please, David. You are an honored guest. I have been given clear instructions. If there is anything you need...anything within certain reasonable moral guidelines, of course...I am to be at your service." That last line was spoken harshly, as if she was spitting out those words. She had seemed so friendly at first, but the slightest unprovoked thought of abusive treatment had led her to be defensive. I wondered if she had a poor history with the men in her life, but Rikku's earlier testimony of Flik seemed to contradict that interpretation.

"Ms. S-Silverberg, I told you it'd be all right! Just leave it to Rikku! I promised you I'd find him at Seventh Heaven, a-and you..."

"Yes. I suspect _he_ will be every bit as shocked as I am. A successful mission, without any unexpected developments...this is a rarity for you," said Odessa, letting a closed smile emerge from the counters of her lips. "I hope this means you're maturing. If so, we may have further use for you in future missions."

"Thank you, Ms. Silverberg! Thanks so much!" Rikku gushed. "I'm so glad!"

"Rikku, please take your leave. I must speak with David alone, and then I must retire for the night," said Odessa. "Flik is waiting for me, and I'm sure Yosuke would like to speak with you."

"Of course, m'am!" Rikku purred. The bundle of energy in the form of a young girl seemed barely able to control herself, as if she was liable to explode at any moment. "David. Feel free to visit me anytime you'd like! If Odessa thinks this highly of you, we'd better become great friends!" She waved in my general direction, then skipped out of the room with the boundless enthusiasm of an elementary schoolgirl. She would have certainly blended in well with her surroundings several years in the past.

Odessa let a long pause drift through the room, waiting for the door to shut before opening her mouth again. "Rikku's a lovely girl. A little overzealous, and unaware of her limitations, but she's a sweetheart. Those contacts she wears...no one could discredit her commitment to Al Bhed."

"Contacts?" I asked.

"Yes, of course. It wouldn't be natural for anyone's pupils to take that shape. Her natural eye color is every bit as blue as mine. The contacts fit her well, and she's not the only one who wears them."

"It sounds like you two have a bit of a history," I said.

"Rikku is young, and about as self-centered and immature as you'd expect from a person her age," said Odessa, apparently oblivious to the fact that she wasn't much older than Rikku. "She's a technical wizard, though, one of the few down here who knows her way around electronic equipment. I have faith she'll be a great asset to Al Bhed."

"I suppose," I said. "But, this room I'll be staying in..."

"Let's cut the small talk for just a moment, shall we, Solid Snake? We should have an honest discussion."

"Yes, now we can...hey. Wait. What?" Odessa's last sentence disturbed me for some...

 _Oh. Holy..._

 **Shit.**

"My old FOXHOUND codename. Solid Snake. How the hell...?"

"You'll find out soon enough," Odessa responded. "Don't worry. _He_ and I are the only two that know of your past affiliations and your work as an espionage agent. Even Rikku has been kept in the dark."

"...This...this makes absolutely no sense," I muttered. I was worried. It was bad enough that Rikku knew I was using communications nanotechnology. Now a middle management figure working for a tribe in the slums knew exactly who I was. The ramifications were mind-boggling and the consequences were massive.

"I can tell you're fretting needlessly. You needn't do so, Snake. I can ensure you beyond any doubt that the number of individuals in Termina who know of your presence here, and the details of your mission, could be listed in the single digits. It will remain that way...so long as you understand your situation."

"...Understand my situation?" I asked.

"We are allies, not enemies, Solid Snake," said Odessa. I wasn't sure whether she could be believed. "Still, the Al Bhed tribe cannot meaningfully assist you at this juncture. We lack the resources necessary to even convince the other two tribes in this district to form any sort of legitimate opposition. If you went about telling every Al Bhed what you had in mind, you would put yourself in severe jeopardy. To be honest, Snake, even I am not sure to what extent I could dedicate myself to a cause as lofty as yours."

Otacon and Phoenix would be _infuriated_ to hear this. Phoenix might have actually walked all the way from Kalm to have the satisfaction of berating me in person. Less than twenty-four hours after Operation Philanthropy began, my cover had already been blown. For all of Odessa's enigmatic talk of an alliance, the fact remained that my identity had been exposed, and I was at risk. That feeling of empathy and sincerity I had felt earlier around Odessa, back when Rikku was present…was that all a well-concocted farce? Was I going to be betrayed into the hands of Link's Administration?

"How do you know all this? How do you know who I am? How can I trust you?" I barked.

"Let me answer your questions in reverse order. First, you cannot trust me. Not yet, at least. I am dedicated first and foremost to this tribe. I have sworn my loyalty to the Al Bhed, and not to you. If your mission ever leads you to actively oppose Al Bhed's goals, I will be forced to expose you. You'd best keep that in mind. Second; I know who you are because _he_ told me as much. Without _him_ , I would have been utterly clueless to your existence. All I've heard about you are the myths...the legends of who Solid Snake was, what he once accomplished. I've heard stories of the man you once were, and those stories were all wonderful. I imagine many were mere exaggerations of impossible achievements. Nonetheless, she was enamored, and I'll forgive her that. Given all that you accomplished in the name of the people of Midgar, I like you and I respect you. For now. As for the details of your mission, I know you are a member of Operation Philanthropy, yet I don't know much else. Except for the 'killing Link' part. _He_ told me that much. I'd love you to meet _him_ , But I'd need your assurance that you wouldn't kill our poor leader the moment you recognized his face. I will not place our leader's health in jeopardy just to satisfy your idle curiosities."

All of Odessa's words are slamming into my chest. I found myself yearning for one of those cigarettes, if only to calm my heart's simmering palpitations. "I'm not leaving here until you..."

"Oh, Snake. If nothing else I've heard of you is true, she certainly was right to call you dense as mud," Odessa exclaimed, a smirk now beaming from her face. I'd find her expression charming under better circumstances. "Please, don't take any of this too personally. There is a role that I must play here, and I am committed to playing it. You have to believe me when I say I only mean you the best. And once you realize exactly who I am, you'll value my friendship as much as I value yours."

My brain felt as if it's going to short-circuit, and it took me a moment to catch my breath. I knew that Odessa was hiding several inconvenient facts from me, and the underlying truth of that revelation tainted the likelihood that she gave the slightest damn about my 'best interests.' Her brief and esoteric description of her leader only heightened a desire to find this stranger and send a bullet through his chest. "Listen, I'm not leaving here until..."

"We can continue this conversation tomorrow, if you wish. You can usually find me in this office. I have a date with Flik, and I'm already late. Please reflect on what I have told you and consider whether an agreement would be in your best interests. If you choose to remain cordial, I will consider introducing you to our leader," said Odessa.

"That's...that's not...come on! This is ridiculous," I shouted. "If you know who I am, you know what I'm capable of. And you should know I deserve your respect. You should give me some goddamn answers."

"What baffles me, Snake, is that you haven't already figured it out," Odessa shrugged, rising from the seat next to her desk and staring wistfully at the ceiling of her office. "Here's your hint: You were wrong about one thing. You're not just a good killer. You are truly a hero. A flawed hero, yes, and one who's made more than his fair share of mistakes. No one is perfect, but you are good enough. The more you deny the truth, the more people you will hurt under a pretense of false humility. And the more people you hurt, the less likely your ambitious operation will succeed."

"Would the blunt, honest truth kill you for a change? Or are you always this cryptic?"

"Oh, no, Snake," Odessa said, as she motioned for the door. The tone of her voice shifted to a higher pitch and her eyes narrowed, but her watchful gaze did not leave me. "I was once a very different woman. I still like to believe there are bits and pieces of my old self, buried within. But then, all the family I had…my father, my sister…they…in these slums, life just marches on, oblivious to anyone's pain and suffering. Sometimes, when I'm with Flik, the magic comes back for a fleeting moment, and I feel whole again. Only sometimes."

For an unexplained reason, I found this most recent confession of Odessa's nearly as disturbing as her prior revelations. "C-can you at least tell me where I should go to sleep tonight? If nothing else?" I said.

"Oh, I nearly forgot. You're in 229-J. J stands for janitorial, of course. There's a card on my desk, with the words 'Temporary Al Bhed ID.' You'll need it to gain unrestricted access to the safehouse. It's yours. Please don't lose it. Finally, here," Odessa said, picking up a key from the pocket of her pantsuit and tossing it to the floor, next to my foot. "That's the key for Room 229-J. Assuming you lock the door, anything you leave in that room won't be stolen from you."

I bent over to the ground and reached for the key, and found the ID card laying on Odessa's desk. "So these are mine?" I said.

"So long as you don't betray Al Bhed, yes," Odessa replied. "And for obvious reasons, Snake. _Don't_ betray our tribe. There would be so little for you to gain, and so much for you to lose."

Under other circumstances, I might have considered strenuously protesting Odessa's demands. At this moment, however, I was absolutely exhausted and I needed to recuperate and regain my composure. Furthermore, Besides, Otacon and Phoenix had important information to share. Now, I had terrifying news of my own to report.

Despite all of this,, I reminded myself that I was still _Solid Snake_ ; I was still the man who made the impossible _possible_. Regardless, I found myself wondering whether Odessa's criticisms were accurate. I wondered if I truly believed I could save Termina. And, at a moment like this, I wondered whether I truly believed Termina was worth saving.

 **STATUS:**

 **Weapons:** Beretta M9 tranquilizer pistol, six chaff grenades, and six stun grenades.

 **Social Links:**

 _Level One:_  
Rikku

 **Support Links:** _Phoenix Wright, Hal Emmerich._

 **DECISION:**

 **There is no choice for readers to make.**   
_(This update of the narrative has been divided into two chapters.)_


	7. Exposition (Part Two)

**  
_January 14th, 2009_   
**

Spending a night in a janitor's closet did not sound promising, and I opened the door to room 229-J expecting to witness a disastrous sight. For once, I was pleasantly surprised. Though the room only offered a tiny fragment of space, the shelves had been cleaned and dusted, and they were bare of all the cleaning products and ancient artifacts I had expected to find. A mattress lay on the floor, and though its quality was questionable at best, having access to such a simple luxury was unanticipated. A tattered white blanket and a single pillow rested on the bed, and the arrangement was mildly comfortable, although it certainly paled in comparison to my amenities in Kalm. Most importantly, however, an overhead light in the room could be turned on and off by flicking a switch next to the door's frame. The lone bulb did not emit much florescent light, but this was certainly better than crawling about in darkness. The door to this closet could be locked from both sides, providing me an additional degree of security. By the standards of the slums, I was being treated like nobility.

As I set my suitcase one of the closet's several wooden shelves, I discovered the suspicious presence of one other object that caught my eye. A single cardboard box, emptied of all its contents, rested upright in the closet's far corner. A single note, written on a torn piece of paper, had been left next to this gift. Its message was scrawled in tiny, almost illegible font, but its impact only reinforced a gnawing feeling of paranoia that began during my conversation with Odessa. "To Snake. Just like old times, isn't it?"

After such a tiring day, all I could do was collapse onto the mattress. It took a sustained conscious effort to keep my eyes open and remain aware of my surroundings. I wondered whether that conversation with Phoenix and Otacon could wait until tomorrow morning. I had spent nearly all day walking the pilgrim's trek into Termina, and I had been forced to witness brutal sights that could horrify the most mentally detached soldiers. Listening to Rikku run her mouth during those last few hours didn't help much, either. This urgent news that Otacon and Phoenix needed to share with me did not sound promising. Then again, a day like this couldn't possibly get any worse.

 _"This is Snake. I've reached a safe haven for the night and I'm pretty damn fatigued. A nice long nap sounds good about now. Can we keep this short?"_

 _"...Oh! There you are, Snake. We were wondering if you'd remembered to reach us,"_ Otacon's familiar high-pitched voice rang in my mind. _"Sorry to say this, but there's a lot we need to catch up on. And this is really, really important. I mean, this is huge."_

Crap. It sounded like I wasn't about to enjoy a peaceful descent into the world of dreams. _"All right. What's going on?"_

 _"It's General Mario's pet project. It looks like they're finally pressing to finish it. The media wasted no time reporting the 'good news' today,"_ said Otacon, as his tone became increasingly frantic. _"This is awful, Snake. No one in Termina understands just what this means."_

 _"Hell, even I don't understand what this means,"_ I muttered. _"You never mentioned General Mario having a 'pet project.' Link's military forces already dominate every corner of Gaia. What more could they ask for?"_

 _"It's...it's a new Metal Gear model, Snake,"_ said Otacon, his tone turning somber.

 **Metal Gear.** The mere words sent shivers down my spine. The same Metal Gears I had once fought years ago, as a young Foxhound operative. An all-terrain, nuclear-equipped, bipedal tank of mass destruction. I had long assumed that the days of hunting and destroying these infernal weapons were behind me. _"...Metal Gear..."_ I droned, the encompassing nature of the threat fully dawning upon my consciousness, the mere phrase giving entirely new meaning to Operation Philanthropy. _"...Metal Gear. Shit."_

 _"I'm not kidding, Snake. I only wish I was,"_ Otacon moaned. _"Especially since this is all my fault. I'm the one who has to repent. I'm the one responsible for..."_

 _"What do you mean, Otacon?"_ I hissed, barely controlling the anger that began to boil through my veins. _"How is this your fault? What you have done this time?"_

 _"No, S-Snake, it's not quite like that,"_ Otacon responded. _"I m-mean, it's...well..."_

 _"It's one of your old blueprints. One of your old designs, isn't it? Tell me the fucking truth, Otacon…damn it all to hell!"_ I yelled, nearly pounding my fist into the floor. _"How could this happen? Why didn't you tell me that Link's Administration had access to your documents? I thought you hacked into your old database of classified files and deleted them..."_

 _"I did, Snake, I did!"_ Otacon shouted. _"I have no idea how this happened! But the bottom line is, someone in Link's Administration found my Mako Gear design. They're designing the most powerful Metal Gear yet, as a sign of absolute strength. Once this is finished...Link is going to be unstoppable."_

 _"...The Mako Gear design?"_ I asked. _"Why haven't I heard of that one?"_

 _"...I...I didn't think it was remotely possible, to be honest. Seriously, Snake. I couldn't work out the kinks. T-there were too many design flaws. I didn't think anyone would be crazy enough to..."_

 _"Just tell me what I need to know,"_ I barked. _"How does this design work? What does it do?"_

 _"It's...it's extraordinarily complicated. I tried to explain the details to Nick, and he stopped listening about twenty minutes in,"_ Otacon responded. _"I could give you a full diagnostics..."_

 _"Just stick to the basics,"_ said Phoenix. _"He wouldn't understand your technical jargon any better than I did."_

 _"O-okay,"_ said Otacon. _"Well, the Mako Gear's design is most similar to an advanced Metal Gear Rex model, only larger and better equipped. Of course, the main difference is that this model runs on mako energy."_

 _"That's the lifeforce of the planet,"_ I replied. _"The stuff Shinra's goons have been draining from the Earth for generations."_

 _"Yes, and it's gotten far worse,"_ Otacon groaned. _"Link's Administration and the Shinra Corporation have been hiding the truth from Termina's citizens. But the entire reason for the Diaspora...when Link forced so many people to move into Termina...was the mako energy crisis. There just isn't enough mako energy enough to supply the entire world, so these days all the energy is just funneled right to Termina."_

 _"So, what's the big deal? If it's just a Metal Gear Rex model that runs on mako energy..."_

 _"No, Snake, that's not the problem,"_ Phoenix replied, cutting straight to the heart of the matter. _"The problem is the amount of energy this new model uses."_

 _"The amount of energy?"_ I inquired. _"What do you mean?"_

 _"According to the Neo Kokiri Network, the first Mako Gear prototype is nearly finished,"_ Phoenix said, his voice fluctuating somewhat, as if he was trying to maintain a steadfast composure. _"The Termina military decided to go public with this information, to boast of its newest pride and joy. I'm sure they're hoping this will stop any would-be revolutionaries from thinking twice about opposing Link's regime."_

 _"But the first one isn't what we have to worry about,"_ said Otacon. _"Each Mako Gear burns about as much energy in a day as a single reactor would, but that's not a game-changing development. But they're going to mass-produce these machines, Snake. Just before midnight on New Year's Eve, they're going to unleash the mass-production models."_

 _"How many?"_ I asked. My question led to a miserable moment of dead silence.

 _"...Over a dozen, Snake. That night, they're going to reveal thirteen new Mako Gears,"_ Phoenix sighed. _"And that means..."_

Otacon's voice suddenly burst through my codec, interrupting Phoenix's somber tone with a sudden release of primordial anguish. _"...It means we're doomed, Snake! We're doomed! Every single one of us is doomed!"_

 _"...Calm down, Otacon. You're exaggerating things, and that never helps,"_ I said, though I wasn't actually sure if I believed myself. _"I need to know what we're really up against."_

said Phoenix. _"Thirteen Mako Gears would demand extraordinary amounts of energy. All these Mako Gears would be connected to Termina's energy network...and according to Otacon's projections, even the best-case scenario in terms of mako demand would..."_

 _"...be catastrophic."_

 _"Yes, Snake, exactly,"_ Otacon cried. _"This is a surefire recipe for Armageddon. This could mean the end of civilization, or even the end of the planet itself! We can't let this happen. We have to stop Link **before** New Year's Eve."_

 _"Hold it! Why would General Mario and Link's military officers condemn themselves to destroying the world? It doesn't make any sense,"_ Phoenix responded. _"Link and his cronies may be corrupt assholes, but they have no incentive to take this kind of a risk. It's ludicrous. They can't be that oblivious to the risks."_

 _"Absolute power corrupts absolutely. But you have a point, Wright,"_ I muttered.

 _"I don't think anyone in Link's Administration understands the dangers inherent in their mako energy addiction,"_ said Otacon. _"I'm sure the Shinra Corporation has given Link plenty of their ridiculous propaganda. For Link, mako is a surefire engine of massive profits. Why question the source of his financial security?"_

 _"It still doesn't make any sense,"_ said Phoenix. _"Termina's military doesn't need more than a single Mako Gear to exert its will around the globe. There must be another reason why Link is investing so much into this project, something we're totally unaware of."_

 _"Regardless, I'm going to have to kill Link before December 31st. A time limit. Wonderful news,"_ I said, my inner voice dripping with unabashed sarcasm.

 _"Not only that, Snake,"_ said Otacon. _"You're also going to have to destroy the single operational Mako Gear model, and erase any evidence of Mako Gear's existence. The blueprints have to mysteriously vanish. We have to ensure this can never happen again. You need to get to Shinra's Headquarters as soon as possible and put a stop to this immediately, Snake. The sooner the..."_

 _" **OBJECTION!** "_ Phoenix shouted. _"No offense, Otacon, but I can't disagree more with your statement."_

 _"...This isn't a courtroom, Nick,"_ said Otacon. _"You don't need to..."_

 _"Listen. Snake needs to develop as many profound, meaningful friendships as possible. He needs to build a core of volunteers who can help him sneak into each new district, and who'll join him in his mission to overthrow the Link Administration. We need to start a massive revolutionary movement, because Snake alone won't accomplish anything,"_ said Phoenix. _"I know you're a world-class covert agent, but Link doesn't just control a ragtag group of a couple hundred terrorists. The entire city of Termina is his base of operations. You can't expect to just sneak your way unopposed. You're going to need all kinds of help."_

 _"Nick, Snake can't waste that kind of time! This is the end of the world we're talking about. We can't spend weeks on end listening to people's mundane problems and their meaningless life stories when..."_

 _"To the contrary. We have to invest all kinds of time building a strong network,"_ said Phoenix. _"Back when I was solving cases as a rookie attorney, I failed miserably when I tried to go it alone. My cases became less daunting when I learned the value of having friends who cared for my clients every bit as much as I did. I had detectives help me gather evidence, I had forensics experts analyze the clues I offered, I even had friends in the prosecutor's office who were willing to give me the benefit of the doubt..."_

 _"You also had legions of underage girls following your every move, if I remember correctly,"_ I quipped, in no mood to withstand another one of the attorney's moralistic lectures on the value of camaraderie. _"That must have been fun. Tell me, Wright, exactly how did those girls contribute to..."_

 _"H-hey!"_ Phoenix exclaimed. _"Keep your twisted mind out of the gutter! It wasn't anything..."_

 _"...uh-huh. Are you going to tell me it's a long-lasting tradition for greenhorn attorneys to befriend girls that young? Strange...I don't think that's what you should have learned in your law school's ethics classes."_

 _"Can we change the subject?"_ yelled Otacon. _"After all, Phoenix isn't the only one of us who's had a history pursuing younger women."_

 _"Sorry, Phoenix. After all the flak you caught from the tabloids over the years, I didn't think you'd take a few jabs so seriously,"_ I replied.

 _"...Maybe so, but damn, I had to deal with those nasty accusations all the time from Edgeworth,"_ said Phoenix. _"von Karma nearly accused me of statutory rape, without even a shred of evidence. Those girls were close friends of mine, and…"_

 _"You miss them dearly, I know. But all you've done since the day you met us in Kalm is complain and whine about how you left them behind, Wright. You have no right to lecture me about the so-called importance of making friends when you couldn't even protect the people you cared for."_

 _"Snake!"_ Otacon shouted.

 _"Phoenix knows I'm right. For all the advice he offers, he's absolutely incapable of actually taking action when it matters most. That's something his friends know only too well. So spare me the damned lectures and tell me how to take down the Mako Gears."_

I knew I was overreacting, but that knowledge did not prevent the words from spilling forth. I was still angry. I was angry about this revelation of the Mako Gears, angry about the doomsday prophecies and the corruption of Link's Administration. I was furious that Odessa knew my codename, that Luigi Mario was nowhere to be found, that I was too cowardly to take a stand and prevent the abuse of an innocent child, that I watched a man die over a poker game. I was even fuming over wasting a vital day of precious time chatting frivolously with an excitable teenager. My fatigued state of mind certainly wasn't helping matters, but I was taking all this frustration out on the wrong person. I always had qualms with Phoenix over the way he botched his escape from Termina, and the fact that he was too pacifistic to take a stand for the friends he lost during the course of his journey. The fact that I was never told the full story of what actually happened only complicated matters.

But Phoenix was a valuable ally, and a good man, and I was in desperate need of both. _"Look, Wright,"_ I cut through the silence over the Codec line. _"I'm sorry. Rough day."_

 _"Eh…it's okay. Happens to the best of us,"_ Phoenix replied. One of his virtues was his ability to readily forgive those he considered his friends. He probably had plenty of firsthand practice dealing with the exasperating quirks and follies of his various assistants. He frequently told me that he kept his negative impressions and feelings to himself. He was probably cussing me out in his thoughts while refusing to air such grievances publicly. Wright was always a lawyer first.

 _"O-okay guys, l-let's get back on track here,"_ Otacon suggested. _"The three of us have to work together if we're going to make any substantial progress. We have to brainstorm a plan. We're going to need to think this all through..."_

 _"Let's start with where we are right now, at this exact moment,"_ I responded. _"It makes no sense to jump too far ahead of the game."_

 _"Okay,"_ said Otacon. _"How did things go today? You're staying someplace safe in the seventh sector slums, right? We just need to a find a way to get you access to the sixth sector as soon as possible..."_

 _"Well, we have more immediate problems than that,"_ I explained. _"This Al Bhed tribe. Their leader knows exactly who I am."_

 _"Yeah, I noticed,"_ Phoenix said. _"I was caught off-guard when I overheard that Odessa person. Who is she? Have you met her before?"_

 _"...W-wait a second. I wasn't listening to the Codec frequency at that time. What are you two talking about?"_ asked Otacon.

 _"It's more bad news,"_ I replied, while barely restraining a yawn. _"That girl I met in Seventh Heaven, Rikku. I thought she was working for Luigi Mario. It turns it she has...other connections. Rikku was able to recognize that I was using communications nanotechnology. But, even worse...this Odessa woman she works for...she knew my old codename. She called me 'Solid Snake.' And she keeps referring to the leader of the Al Bhed as the source of this information. It sounds as if I'm being blackmailed into doing this tribe's dirty work."_

 _"W-wait. This Odessa person called you Solid Snake?"_ Otacon sputtered. _"Oh dear. This is terrible. Your cover's been blown already? How could this have happened?"_

 _"It's not the end of the world,"_ I replied. Actually, it was, but that was beside the point. _"I'm pretty sure only Odessa and this Al Bhed leader figure know my real identity. If I can find some way to make sure they keep their mouths shut..."_

 _"...Are you planning on killing the leader of one of the seventh sector's three tribes?"_ Phoenix exclaimed. _"...Snake. I know you're running on empty fumes right now, but don't be foolish. That kind of brazen attack could lead to disaster."_

 _"It may be necessary. Odessa is a wonderful sweet-talker, but how can I tell if she's lying through her teeth? She says she likes me and she respects me, but the only people who'd know my Foxhound code name and the only people who'd be aware of nanotechnology. They'd have to be Foxhound agents, themselves. And Foxhound disbanded after the Shadow Moses incident, nearly a decade ago."_

 _"Right,"_ said Otacon. _"Afterwards, the three of us founded Philanthropy."_

 _"The three...of us?"_ Phoenix inquired. _"But I didn't...I mean, I didn't leave Termina until..."_

 _"Oh, no, I wasn't referring to you, Nick,"_ said Otacon. _"We had...a third member, at the time. She's...she's no longer with us."_

 _"Meryl...the other survivor from the Shadow Moses incident,"_ I said. The woman I thought I loved, too, the one I felt destined to spend my life with. Did I truly love her? It was difficult to say. _"She died in 2003. She bought into Avalanche's message of change, joined that movement, and infiltrated Termina, all against my advice. We still don't know exactly what happened to her."_

 _"Yeah...Meryl...I really miss her,"_ Otacon sighed. _"She was a strong woman, a real tomboy. One of the only women I could imagine standing toe-to-toe with Solid Snake...one of those feisty redheads who always wanted to follow her own path. Headstrong, maybe, but..."_

Feisty redheads...something about Otacon's comments struck me as a bit suspicious.

 _"Hey, Otacon. Do you remember anything Meryl or the Colonel said about their personal lives? Meryl was raised in Termina, right?"_

 _"Yeah...in the district now known as Neo Hyrule, I think,"_ Otacon responded. _"She didn't talk much about her family. There was a lot of melodrama with her relationship with the Colonel. But I'm sure you know that story better than I do. For Nick's sake…the Colonel and her mother had an affair for several years, despite the fact that her mother was married to another man. The Silverberghs were an affluent family, and rumors in the tabloids suggested that Papa Silverbergh was...stuck in a closet, one more metaphorical than the one Snake's actually sleeping in. If you catch my drift."_

 _"...Silverbergh?"_

 _"Yeah, don't you remember? Meryl may have been Colonel Campbell's daughter, but she was still raised as a Silverbergh. She didn't learn who her real biological father was until the events of Shadow Moses. How did you manage to forget all that? I thought you were desperately in love with her!"_

Meryl and I did enjoy a brief relationship after Shadow Moses, but we were never quite as close as Otacon seemed to believe we were. Neither of us shared Otacon's idealistic notions of a fairy-tale romance between star-crossed lovers. _"...and you're absolutely sure Meryl is dead?"_

 _"...Positive, Snake. You saw the photographs. You heard the stories. Besides, Meryl would have tried to contact us if she were still alive. She still had those nanomachines inside her. The last transmission I received from her was dated July 19th, 2003, the day before she was killed."_

 _"...you're absolutely, positively sure, then."_

 _"...Yes, Snake. This is no time to get sentimental on me, all the sudden. Remember how nanotechnology works? Electronic data is sent to my computer the moment your brain stops functioning. I don't think Meryl would fake her own death..."_

And besides, if she was faking her own death, she probably wouldn't still be using her own last name. _"...Otacon. That Odessa woman. Her last name was Silverbergh."_

 _"...Odessa Silverbergh? ... **the** Odessa Silverbergh? She's in the seventh sector slums? ...Snake, why didn't you tell me earlier?"_ Otacon shouted.

 _"I should be asking you the same question. How do you know this woman?"_ I asked.

 _"...Snake, don't be so naive. I've never met Odessa. I've only heard about her. Didn't you bother asking Meryl any questions about her personal life? You two were dating for months!"_

 _"...Don't be ridiculous. I killed Meryl's father, Otacon. Her family was the last thing we wanted to discuss...oh, shit. ...You're kidding me. You've got to be **fucking** kidding me. I thought Meryl was an only child!"_

 _"...I'm afraid not, Snake. Odessa Silverbergh is Meryl's younger sister,"_ said Otacon. _"They're both Colonel Campbell's daughters."_

 _"...What the hell,"_ I replied. _"This doesn't make any sense. Why would a Silverbergh move below the plates and subject herself to poverty?"_

 _"I don't know, Snake, but based on what I've heard...it sounds like she was expecting you,"_ Otacon muttered. _"Meryl must have mentioned you sometime after she returned to Termina. Maybe Odessa was involved in the Avalanche revolution. Maybe not. But..."_

 _"...Maybe she's a part of this blackmail scheme,"_ I said. _"Maybe this leader of the Al Bhed found this woman, thought I'd be more likely to trust her. There's still something suspicious about this situation. Even if Odessa is Meryl's sister...it doesn't explain how she'd know so much about Operation Philanthropy. It doesn't explain how she could have anticipated my presence here and now."_

 _"...No, but there's only one easy explanation that comes to mind, based on the available evidence,"_ said Phoenix. _"If I were a betting man, I'd wager the leader of the Al Bhed would have to been involved with Foxhound. It's the only way to explain away these discrepancies. It'd also give Odessa a viable motive for working with this man, and a reason for the two of them to have met. Anyone who knew Colonel Campbell..."_

 _"That's impossible,"_ I hissed. _"Foxhound virtually imploded on itself. I killed the vast majority of them after most of them rebelled against Shinra in the Shadow Moses incident."_ That had been when I was still staunchly loyal to Midgar, when I was young and naive. _"The genome soldiers wouldn't be capable of pulling this kind of a stunt. Any surviving Foxhound member would never want to work with me again."_

 _"What about Raiden?"_ Otacon asked.

 _"Don't delude yourself, Otacon. If Raiden is still alive, he wouldn't be anywhere near Termina. We've tried to contact Jack for years, and he's never responded. Why would he become leader of an impoverished tribe out in the middle of the forgotten wastelands?"_

 _"It was just a thought,"_ Otacon mused.

 _"An extraordinarily unlikely one,"_ I responded. _"Besides, if Raiden was leading the Al Bhed, he wouldn't have me jumping through hoops for the opportunity to meet him. He wouldn't resort to thinly veiled attempts at blackmail."_

 _"...Well, I can't think of anyone else who'd know all about nanotechnology, who'd know about your past with Foxhound, and who'd want to work alongside you,"_ said Otacon. _"No one else seems to fit."_

 _"We'll find out soon enough. It's not worth wasting a night's sleep over,"_ I said. _"If you'll both excuse me. I'm absolutely drained and I need to get some rest. We can continue this conversation later. In the meantime, just keep brainstorming ideas. We need to figure out what to do next."_

 _"Just remember, Snake,"_ said Otacon. _"We only have until **December 31st** of this year. I know that sounds like a lot of time, but this isn't going to be a cakewalk. You can't waste too much time in a single sector, but you need to garner as much support as you can. I'm not exactly sure how you should balance your time, but..."_

 _"...I'll keep track of it. Don't worry so much, Otacon. We've dealt with Metal Gears before and we'll deal with them again. As for Link...he may be the President of Termina, but he's only a single man. Elf. Whatever he is," I asserted. "We will succeed where Avalanche failed."_

The soft, cushioned pillow beckoned me into its sweet embrace, providing me temporary respite from all the questions I struggled to answer.

 **  
_January 15th, 2009_   
**

The conveniences of communication nanotechnology included an alarm that only I could hear. I was awoken, refreshed and alert, at precisely seven in the morning.

I had several immediate concerns.

First and foremost, I needed to establish my priorities of tasks to accomplish today. Was it too soon to confront Odessa, or could I demand answers from her immediately? I now knew who she was, but I was still left with several unanswered questions. Could I just march into the Al Bhed headquarters and demand an audience with the leader? Or should I attempt to build an implicit level of trust with the Al Bhed organization and its members first? I could pursue leads in the marketplace without Rikku, or return to Seventh Heaven and hope Luigi had made his presence known. I could even attempt to speak with Vercetti, or learn more about the tribes competing with the Al Bhed in this sector.

I had plenty of options to choose, and many leads worth pursuing, but I could only accomplish one task at a time.

 **STATUS:**

 **Weapons:** Beretta M9 tranquilizer pistol, six chaff grenades, and six stun grenades.

 **Social Links:**

 _Level One:_  
Rikku

 **Support Links:** _Phoenix Wright, Hal Emmerich._

 **DECISION:**

 **What should Snake do today?**

 _(Voters could select **two** choices. Snake was guaranteed to attempt the most-voted option and would move onto the second most popular choice if his progress was hindered.)_

 **A:** Knock on the door to Room 217. _(Not chosen, zero votes.)_  
 **B:** Knock on the door to Room 218. _(Not chosen, six votes.)_  
 **C:** Knock on the door to Room 134. _(Not chosen, four votes.)_  
 **D:** Go to the Al Bhed cafeteria. **_(Chosen, nine votes.)_**  
 **E:** Visit Room 101. **_(Alternate option, seven votes.)_**  
 **F:** Walk to the Al Bhed Headquarters across the street. _(Not chosen, zero votes.)_  
 **G:** Travel to Tommy Vercetti's Headquarters. _(Not chosen, one vote.)_  
 **H:** Stay in Room 229-J; converse with Phoenix and Otacon. _(Not chosen, one vote.)_  
 **J:** Go back to Seventh Heaven. _(Not chosen, four votes.)_  
 **K:** Revisit the seventh sector marketplace. _(Not chosen, two votes.)_


	8. Mandalore the Preserver

**  
_January 15th, 2009_   
**

The Al Bhed Cafeteria was a cornucopian mess, littered with piles of the plastic remnants of half-eaten meals. The room reeked of an otherworldly smell, and it was painfully obvious that no janitor had recently cleaned this cesspit. That should not have surprised me, given my recent accommodations and given the general state of this sorry safehouse. I had dealt with worse scents than rotten food, however, and I was hungry enough to eat nearly anything placed on my plate. The yellow curd I was offered was supposedly scrambled eggs, but it tasted more like smoldering rubber. I could not complain; a free meal was a blessing. I was still better nourished than the average citizen in the slums.

The cafeteria was virtually empty when I arrived, and I decided to sit at a table in the far corner, in order to avoid unnecessary confrontations. Odessa and Rikku knew I was here, and the Temporary ID card was enough to convince the woman working behind the counter that I deserved a free breakfast. To most the others, however, I was a stranger with no affiliation to the Al Bhed. My mere presence could have been misconstrued as a threat. It probably would have been smarter to knock on Rikku's door first, and ensure the presence of a familiar face. Even in this secluded corner, I stood out like a sore thumb. I suspected that I would have to maintain a low profile until I had performed actions that proved my loyalty to the Al Bhed.

"You cheap, pathetic son of a bitch!" A deep, husky voice called out. I turned just in time to notice two burly men approaching my table. I recognized one of the two soldiers as a security guard, one of the men with rifles who was guarding the front entrance to the safehouse. For a moment, I wondered if I was the 'bitch' in question, but it looked like the two men weren't paying me any particular attention. They seemed to be engaging in their own argument, but their booming voices ensured everyone else in the cafeteria heard their conflict.

"What the hell is the matter with you, Canderous? Are you trying to make a scene? Shut your damn mouth," the dark-skinned man yelled at his counterpart, barely maintaining his composure.

"I haven't been paid last month's salary, and you're asking _me_ to keep quiet? I'm not going to work for a free meal, not when Vercetti would..."

"Vercetti wouldn't dare hire a washed-up piece of shit like you. You're just an old, decrepit ex-mercenary who can't accept he's nothing more than a relic from a bygone era. Maybe I just thought 'the glory of battle' would compensate your so-called 'services.' Or maybe you're just..."

"Shut up, Jax. You told me you'd pay five-hundred gil a month," said the grey-haired man with the strange name. "And I expect to be paid."

"I'm not going to pay you for standing inside an elementary school's entryway for the past seven goddamn weeks! You want to get paid? Why don't you actually do something worthwhile for a change," said the bald man with the dark goatee, the one apparently known as Jax.

"And I keep telling you, we need more men or more ammunition!" Canderous barked. "You expect me to run into Anthro territory and make an ass out of myself on some half-baked suicide mission? I'm brave, but not foolish."

"If you really were the great tactician you pretend to be, Canderous Ordo, you wouldn't hesitate to take a chance to prove your worth. You waste your night in the tavern talking up a storm with your ancient tales of warrior codes and daredevil missions, but when you're asked to actually do something you just hightail it right back to the sordid comfort of your booze. Some so-called 'hero.' More like a burned-out has-been."

"There's a difference between well-executed military strategy and your halfwit plans masquerading as tactics. If you want me to risk my ass for your precious tribe, I want enough supplies and enough manpower to do the job right. That's not cowardice. That's just diligence. You should understand the difference, Jackson Briggs."

"It's just sad, Ordo, when a teenage girl accomplished more for our tribe than you have in the past month. Maybe I shouldn't feign shock. At least she understands the concept of commitment. You pretend that you're some legendary soldier, but there's a difference between you and the real legends. Real soldiers fight for a cause, for something greater than themselves. But you? All you care about is the skin on your back, and the stories you can share in seedy taverns. Why don't you just enjoy your free breakfast and leave me the fuck alone," said Briggs, in a tone of utter disdain.

"I'm not leaving here until I'm _paid_ , you understand?" Canderous growled, kicking over a nearby chair. "You give me the gil, or I'm going to Odessa's office and demanding compensation. Your choice. I'd rather not escalate this."

Jackson Briggs folded his arms around his chest, curling his fingers into fists. He stared down his apparent rival, and did not seem intimidated by Ordo's outburst. "If you want to go cry to mommy for help, go right ahead. Odessa won't cave in to your whining ass. It'd be fun to watch you be thoroughly humiliated by a woman. So go ahead, tough guy."

Canderous' bluff had been called, and now he hesitated for a crucial moment, as a smirk grew on Jackson's face. "Hmph. You want me to prove my worth? Fine. You pay me two-hundred fifty gil, up front, no strings. That will be enough for me to purchase my own supplies. If you're not going to properly equip your soldiers, at least give the opportunity to do so myself."

"So now you're willing to negotiate?" Jax said, letting a soft, two-syllable chuckle emerge from his lips. "You're just like any other mercenary, Ordo. Childish hissy hits aside, all you care about is the money. Al Bhed's practically broke as it is, and you're still trying to fleece us. But...we need to make a statement against the Anthros, and restore our reputation. So...exactly what will you do for us? I won't pay you two-hundred fifty gil just to see some green graffiti tags on Anthro turf."

Canderous laughed, finally regaining some measure of confidence. "I'll do much better than that, Briggs. I'll steal one of the emeralds. That should knock the Anthros down a few pegs on the totem pole. But I expect full compensation for my services. I want at least _a thousand_ gil after I'm finished. And, I want backup. At least give me Mitsurugi."

Jackson's brows furrowed as he seemed to contemplate Canderous' offer. "Two-hundred gil up front, seven-hundred after you're done, nine-hundred gil total. I can't convince Odessa to part with any more than that. As for Mitsurugi...I'll talk to him, but I can't make any promises. Deal?"

"No, Briggs. Two-hundred fifty up front and at least eight-hundred after with Mitsurugi, nine-hundred without. I'm not going any lower than that. Those are my terms. Take them or leave them, but if you don't offer me a fair deal, I'll make sure Odessa knows you've skimped out on my payments. And if Vercetti won't hire me, maybe the Anthros will make an exception and let a human join their..."

"If you make one more unbelievable threat, Ordo, the deal's off the table. I'll have you locked up on sedition charges. Remember, I'm the Marshall of the Al Bhed. I _am_ the law. I can make your life miserable without even blinking an eye."

Canderous shrugged, attempting to convey an aura of utter indifference, before offering Jackson his right hand. "So be it. You got yourself a deal, Jax. But if you don't pay up as you promised...there will be consequences. I swear it on the grave of every Mandalorian."

"And if you ever dare betray Al Bhed, I will personally send a bullet straight through that thick skull of yours, Canderous. Then you'll have the opportunity to join your brethren in the afterlife."

"Always a _pleasure_ doing business with you, you pompous bastard."

"You as well, ignorant grunt. You'll need to wait at least a day for us to procure the funds for your spending spree. Until then...have fun guarding our lovely entryway," Jax retorted, giving his mercenary underling a faux salute before walking away.

Canderous let out a hearty sigh, as if he had acknowledged a great burden on his shoulders. I stared at the mercenary a moment too long, and his eyes markedly noticed my presence. He took a few heavy steps in my direction. "Enjoying your meal, stranger?"

I motioned for Canderous to take a seat. At the very least, he seemed a decent source for relatively unbiased information about the Al Bhed. Despite our differences, I also sensed a common sort of bond between Ordo and I. We were both older combatants, men past our primes, still trying to make a living doing the only thing we understood. "Tastes like crap. What about you?"

"...I'm not very hungry, anymore," said Canderous. "I apologize for disrupting your meal. What you just witnessed was...a traditional sort of negotiation between Jackson and I. It's just the way we get things done."

"I understand," I responded. "I've been in those kinds of situations before. Men like Jackson think they know about the battlefield, all while marching us poor grunts to our deaths."

"Right," Canderous said, with a knowing smile. "They get all the glory, but we do all the dirty work. And they expect us to do it for free. I'm guessing you're a merc, too?"

I wouldn't have to deliberately deceive Canderous with this answer. "...You could say that. I have my own agenda. It's not about the money, though..."

"...It's about honor. The glory of battle. The promise of victory. Yes. You have that glint in your eyes, the look of someone who's shed blood. It's nice to finally meet another person in this festering hellhole who understands," Canderous beamed. "Tell me. What kind of weapon do you use? What's your style?"

"Any _true_ mercenary knows that highly confidential information," I replied. "Let's just say I can handle nearly anything."

"Hmm. Very clever of you. What's your name?"

"You can call me David. I'm new in town. I used to work for Claude, in sector six," I said, as we exchanged a vigorous handshake. That last part, of course, was an absolute lie, but I suspected Canderous would be impressed with that information, and he most likely wouldn't know the first thing about Claude's hired hands.

"Don't tell me. You working for Tommy Vercetti, now? You could get in a lot of trouble with these folks if..."

"...No, no. That's not true," I exclaimed. Sometimes, I had to remind myself, a perfectly innocuous lie can have unintentionally disastrous ramifications. "I once worked for Claude, a while back. I'd appreciate it if you kept that information quiet, though. I don't want anyone here misinterpreting things." Odessa and Rikku could both easily contradict my little fib, after all. I was beginning to regret my deliberate attempt at deception already, but I needed to garner Canderous' trust.

"I see," Ordo responded. "You must be that new guy, the one Rikku was supposed to bring here. I heard a few rumors about that. Al Bhed must have been really desperate for your services. If so, that must mean you're good. Maybe...maybe I could make you an offer."

"Please, elaborate," I said. Even though I had little interest in getting involved in skirmishes between sector seven's ailing tribes, Canderous might present me an opportunity I couldn't refuse.

"You know about the Anthros, right? Most of them were banned from citizenship in Termina outright after they resisted the Diaspora. It took Link and his goons a while to rein them in, and the authorities upstairs been bitter ever since. Especially General Mario..."

"I think I remember that. That Sonic character, the leader of the Anthro resistance. He was a real thorn in Mario's side," I muttered.

"And now he's dead, like most honorable men are these days," said Canderous. "Sonic's successor, a close friend of his, leads one of the three tribes in these wastes. The Anthros. Vercetti leased them some open space in what used to be a public green, before the city was built and sunlight became a...rare commodity. The Anthros just know it as a barren wasteland."

"So, let's cut to the chase. What's so important about this emerald you're after?" I asked.

"Well, it's supposedly a powerful artifact. Even more powerful than materia," Canderous replied. "I have my doubts, but the Al Bhed believe the stories. That the emeralds can grant some form of super-speed, even temporary invulnerability. It would at least explain why the Anthros are winning."

"The Anthros are...winning?"

"Yeah, no shocker there. The Anthros don't let most humans in, but because of the discriminatory restrictions against Anthros in Termina, there's an awful lot stuck here. And they're angry. _Really_ pissed off. Anthros hate cities, they feel much more comfortable out in nature. They've been locked into the slums for a long time, and it's irritated them. Some blame the Anthros for starting these turf wars between the tribes. I'm sure Vercetti's adding plenty of fuel to the fire," Canderous elaborated. "The Al Bhed was the tribe most dependent on technology, firearms and computers and such. So when Termina cut back on mako energy for the slums...they got screwed over."

"And the third tribe?" I inquired. "What about them?"

"Bah. They're practically invisible, and pretty much irrelevant," said Canderous. "Don't waste your time worrying about the Necros. Everyone says they're powerful magicians. But they haven't done shit lately. They'll only bother you if you intrude on their turf."

Something about Canderous' vague description of this tribe didn't sit well from me, but I suspected I wouldn't get any more information about the Necros from him. "...So, you're going to steal this emerald. And I'm guessing you're going to ask for my help."

"If you're up for it, I'll tell Jax that I won't need Mitsurugi. We can go infiltrate the Anthros' base together, and I'll split the gil with you, fifty-fifty."

I tapped a finger against the cafeteria table. "How can I be sure you'll keep your end of the bargain?"

"I told you before," said Canderous. "Let Jackson believe what he wants, but I'm not his definition of a typical mercenary. I don't just care about the money. The gil is virtually meaningless to me. We only fought over the terms because he insults me by underestimating my worth. All I want is to experience the thrill of a good fight, that glory I once felt on the battlefield. And, I want to live to tell the tale."

"Hmm..." I wondered whether this mission was really such a good idea. I could use the mission to become friends with Canderous Ordo, and I did desperately need the gil. The consequences of getting caught in the middle of the heist could be disastrous, though. This kind of job also seemed more appropriate for a thief, and Canderous and I were both trained combatants, not burglars.

"Well, you can think about it. And if you want to split your portion of the gil, or if you can make some other kind of deal...you're free to invite more help. I won't allow any more than _three people_ to go on the mission. That means me, you, and somebody else. We could go with Mitsurugi. I expect he'd be excited for some action."

"If I decide to go along for the ride, when would we be leaving?" I asked.

"The night of **_January 18th_** sounds like the best bet to me. Make sure not to make other plans," said Canderous. "Anyway, you can meet me in Room 205, that's where I live. If you don't find me there in the evening, you'll probably find me in the tavern. We can discuss the plans to infiltrate the Anthros' park any time between now and then. I hope you're pretty good with covert operations..."

 _Good?_ This man had no idea of his good fortune; he was ignorant of the fact that he was potentially allying with Gaia's most renowned stealth operative. Unlike Canderous, however, I was not the type to boast. "Heh. I wonder..."

"Well, what do you think? Are you up for some fun, or should I look for backup elsewhere?" asked Canderous.

I needed to give Canderous an answer, and fast. I suspected he wasn't the type of man who'd appreciate any further hesitation on my end. I needed to commit now, or he'd probably find another suitable partner for the heist. Was the emerald Canderous sought really worth the effort to procure it? Would succeeding in the mission anger the Anthros, or please the Al Bhed? Could I turn around and use the emerald as a bargaining tool with Vercetti? Did I really need the gil, or could I find a safer way to make the money I needed? And, what would happen if Canderous and I failed the mission?

In the back of mind, I also had another choice to deliberate. I had been wondering whether to speak with Odessa, or visit Yosuke and Amir's room. On the one hand, I wanted to confront Odessa with the knowledge that she was Meryl's sister, and I wanted to see how she'd react. Would she allow me access to visit this mysterious leader of the Al Bhed anytime soon? I needed to understand whether I was really being blackmailed, and I needed to make a decision as to whether I'd play along with the Al Bhed...or betray them and sell their information to another bidder. Alternatively, Amir could make an ideal "third person" to join this little heist. Beyond Canderous' operation, there was an argument to be made that Amir's friendship could be more valuable than procuring more information. But would this complete stranger be interested in making my acquaintance? Would Amir even be there, or would I be stuck chatting with Rikku's teenage boyfriend?

Canderous stood up from his chair and seemed ready to leave. "So, David. What's your answer? Are you going to chicken out, or are you going to man up and prove you're as tough as you sound?"

 **STATUS:**

 **Weapons:** Beretta M9 tranquilizer pistol, six chaff grenades, and six stun grenades.

 **Social Links:**

 _Level One:_  
Rikku

 **Support Links:** _Phoenix Wright, Hal Emmerich._

 **DECISIONS:**

 **1: What should Snake tell Canderous?**

 **A:** Politely decline his offer. _(Not chosen, zero votes.)_  
 **B:** Accept his offer, and insist the two can handle the mission alone. **_(Chosen, 13 votes.)_**  
 **C:** Accept his offer, but insist Mitsurugi also receives an invitation. _(Not chosen, zero votes.)_  
 **D:** Accept his offer, but insist Rikku also receives an invitation. _(Not chosen, zero votes.)_  
 **E:** Accept his offer, but insist Amir also receives an invitation. _(Not chosen, one vote.)_  
 **F:** Vehemently decline his offer, and threaten to expose Canderous' plan to the Anthros. _(Not chosen, zero votes.)_

 **2: Where should Snake go next?**

 **Y:** Go to Yosuke and Amir's room and knock on the door. **_(Chosen, 13 votes.)_**  
 **Z:** Go to Odessa's room and knock on the door. _(Not chosen, one vote.)_


	9. The Timeless Traceur

**  
_January 15th, 2009_   
**

Canderous Ordo's piercing slate eyes remained fixed on me as he awaited his answer. His composed facial expression, complete with furrowed brows and pursed lips, refused to reveal any hint of displeasure. Nonetheless, his fingers fidgeted furiously and exposed the true extent of his impatience. My hesitation was largely due to my intrinsically cautious nature. Unlike Canderous, I was not a man to eagerly dive headfirst into risky situations. Could we really compose a foolproof plan to steal a prized possession of the Anthros in three days? Was this emerald really worth the possibility of antagonizing the seventh sector slum's most dominant tribe? I felt that I lacked enough essential information to make a full commitment, but I expected that answer would not satiate my militaristic comrade. Besides, any insecurities I felt at that moment were likely ill-founded. I was, after all, _Solid Snake_. I was the best-ranked clandestine operative to ever serve the interests of the country once known as Midgar. Not too long ago, I garnered a reputation for sneaking past legions of terrorists and battling metallic monstrosities. It seemed unlikely that I would struggle to swipe a piece of jewelry from a comparatively disorganized civilian clan.

Despite our many differences, Canderous and I seemed to have a lot in common. We were both aging warriors from bygone eras, holding onto the nostalgia of better days in our respective pasts. The mere fact that Canderous had fought in real battles before differentiated him from the majority of people I was likely to meet in these slums. I was not sure he was trustworthy, but his straightforward and candid approach seemed a breath of fresh air from the kind of intentionally vague, manipulative bluster I'd heard from Odessa. I had never heard of the 'Mandalorians' before, so I suspected that Canderous was not originally from Termina. If Canderous kept his pride and aggression in check, a combat veteran with his level of experience would make a great asset.

Though the intangibles of this stealth mission made its undertaking far from a flawless endeavor, there were three very palpable benefits in making the investment; Ordo's trust, Al Bhed's support, and half the gil. The latter was my most pressing concern. I was broke. Otacon and Phoenix suspected that any money I attempted to bring into Termina would be stolen by the soldiers working the border patrols, and they were probably right. Subsequently, I left Kalm with no money in my possession. Bringing an excessive stockpile of gil would only endanger my cover before I had even entered the metropolis' soft underbelly.

Even without the monetary incentive, Canderous' mission offered other tantalizing advantages. Despite all my latent combat abilities, I was simply an anonymous grunt to most in the Al Bhed tribe. To give Operation Philanthropy a fighting chance of succeeding, I had to first assert my worth as a dependable and trustworthy ally. There were many crazy prophets throughout the slums preaching messages of 'revolution' and 'change.' My movement had to represent something more than idle words and unproven theories. While I needed to remain in the shadows, with my true intentions hidden from those in power, I had to simultaneously establish myself as a growing threat to Termina's establishment and an alternative to Link's oppression. To truly succeed, I had to almost become a mythological beast, with a daunting reputation familiar to everyone. Yet the man behind the mask had to remain hidden in plain sight, a figure that no enemy could easily find or identify.

All my brooding introspection seemed lost on Canderous. "...Damn it, what the hell's wrong with you, David? Are you going to answer my question anytime today, or should I come back tomorrow?"

"Sorry. My mistake. I was just...thinking things through," I responded. "We'll need to plan this out thoroughly beforehand, because we can't afford to make any mistakes. But...I think I'm in. I think we can do this."

Any trace of annoyance almost instantaneously evaporated from Canderous' face, as the silver-haired mercenary broke out into an effervescent smile. "I knew you wouldn't let me down. I'll be sure to let Mitsurugi..."

"No, that won't be necessary. Don't sell yourself short, Canderous. We're both experienced fighters, and any more backup would only slow us down. This kind of mission depends on our ability to remain undetected. The more people that tag along for the ride, the more likely we'll be discovered."

Apparently, the words from my mouth composed graceful music in Ordo's ears. "...Really? You still think old man Canderous has some magic left in the tank? I'm impressed. You're about the first one in this forsaken safehouse to have that kind of faith in me. The way Jackson rants and raves, you'd think I was just run-down another piece of trash."

I hoped Canderous would not prove Jackson right in three days. "...Yeah, I've heard the same crap before, too. Once, not too long after a successful operation, I was...rudely informed that my organization had taken measures to _replace_ my services. They brought in a new kid, barely twenty years old, thought he represented a brighter future. For a year or so, I was put out to pasture, and the kid was given all the tough assignments. He was young, they said. Athletic. Charming. Vibrant. Then..."

"Then he got himself killed, right?" said Canderous. "All that shit about charm and skills and body condition, it doesn't mean anything if you're too inexperienced to avoid a bullet to your brain."

"...No, not quite. I'll give the kid some credit. He was too strong to be killed easily," I reminisced. "He had a mental breakdown. He witnessed something terrible. When he returned...he just wasn't the same person. Something had snapped. He was too young to handle the pressure, so he just vanished."

"Hmph. Sounds to me like sheer cowardice," Canderous barked. "Some boys just aren't built to handle the brutality of war."

"Maybe so," I replied. "In the end, my commander learned that experience trumped raw ability. Anyone can be born with certain talents. The kind of experience you and I have, and the knowledge that comes with every battle fought... it's not something that's inherited. It's not hard-boiled into our genetic codes. We earned our stripes the hard way, and that separates men like us from the pack."

"And that's why we should do this alone," said Canderous. "We'll prove just what we're capable of. And then, the Al Bhed will recognize our worth. Jackson won't try to send me out on these mundane little treasure hunts anymore. I like where you're going with this."

"Right," I said. "Though, diving headfirst into Anthro territory...we can't afford to take the risks lightly. Do you have access to a map of their park? If not, we'll need to find one."

"I'll see what I can do, but I can't make any promises," responded Canderous. "It's been a long time since the slums have had any form of legitimate government. If a map did exist, it would be an ancient relic. That wouldn't be much help, given how much the seventh sector has changed. We may have to rely on a preliminary scouting mission to give us an idea of what we'll be up against. But the Anthros won't welcome us, even as civilians. We're humans. They'd be suspicious."

"I'm not so convinced," I replied. "The Anthros may appear to be isolationists, but they wouldn't survive if they attempted to forgo _any_ contacts with humans. After all, they had to barter with Vercetti for the land. Without human allies, the Anthros would have limited access to food, water, and other necessities. There must be humans in this area who are covertly assisting the Anthros. We'll just need to ask around, gather as much intel as possible."

"Regardless," said Canderous, "we have to start this mission on the night of the eighteenth. So we don't have much time."

"We have more than enough," I retorted. "We'll discuss the details later. In the meantime, I'm going to pursue every lead and learn as much as I can about these Anthros."

"Sounds like a plan, David," Canderous exclaimed. "Remember what I said earlier. You can meet me anytime in my room, or in the Al Bhed tavern. You'll probably find me in one of those two places. I'll be waiting for you. And..."

There was an awkward moment of silence that transpired, as Canderous seemed to struggle to find the right words to say. "Is something wrong?"

"And...I just wanted to...thank you. Thanks for believing in my abilities. It's been a long while since the last time I was looking forward to a mission. You've sparked that old fire in my veins, and it feels _damn_ good to be alive again."

I could tell that Canderous was uncomfortable with the thought of expressing gratitude to another person. His eyes darted from left to right, as if he didn't want his reputation sullied by this grave admission. I understood his sentiments perfectly; not long ago, I had similar difficulties acknowledging a dependence on the friendships of others. Meryl and Otacon had to break me from a similar lone-wolf mindset. "Cut the crap, Canderous. We're mercenaries, not lovesick teenagers. If you're still alive after this mission is over, then we can celebrate."

Canderous smiled and nodded emphatically. "I'm looking forward to it. In the meantime, if you want anything done _right_...be sure to stop by and ask." After that final statement, we both parted our separate ways. Though this clandestine operation required plenty of planning, another thought preoccupied my mind. Earlier, I had decided that I needed to pay a visit to the room of Rikku's boyfriend, Yosuke, and her mentor, Amir. The more connections I developed within Al Bhed, the more leverage I'd acquire to force a meeting with their enigmatic leader. Canderous had the potential to become a dependable ally, but he lacked strong affiliations to the tribe he served. My acquaintanceship with Rikku gave me an obligatory excuse to pay Yosuke and Amir a visit, and those two were respected members of the Al Bhed tribe. I only hoped that these strangers did not share Rikku's compulsions to prattle endlessly on every routine subject imaginable.

As I approached Room 218, I was bitterly reminded of this world's entropic spiral into decay. Long ago, in a forgotten era, this classroom had been filled to the brim with young students eager to learn more of the beautiful world around them. Those were in the days before the plates, back when Midgar was just an aspiring town like any other, with a bright cerulean sky overhead during the day and a thousand stars shining at night. I was not raised in this city, and I did not have anything resembling a normal childhood. Still, as I walked through these damp, dusky corridors, I couldn't help but feel nostalgic for a precious memory that humanity had squandered. Link's corrupt administration and the unrelenting passage of time had colluded to condemn every being, and everyone had paid the price for their transgressions. If Link was allowed to unleash his devastating Mako Gears, even this safehouse in its disgraced state would become nothing more than a pristine memory.

Room 218's wooden door seemed in substantially better shape than most the others in the building. _'Amir Badi al Zaman and Yosuke'_ was spray-painted over the entrance in bright neon-green. The first name, written in an elegant and exotic cursive, dominated the door, while the second was tucked away beneath it and added only as an afterthought. I took a moment to collect my thoughts and prepared for the inevitable discomfort of an introduction with complete strangers. I clenched my right fist and let it hover for a brief interlude next to the door...

...and promptly heard an ear-splitting **_THUD_** emanating from the adjacent wall.

 _What the hell?_ The unexpected noise had startled me, and I wondered if there was a hole or some other artifice in the wall. I suspected I was being watched. "Anyone there?" I called out, in a gruff monotone. I received no immediate answer.

 **THUD.** The same exact sound occurred again, just a few moments later. Were Yosuke and Amir engaging in a nasty brawl? Even then, why would either of them punch or kick their wall? If Yosuke and Amir were engaging in some kind of intense combat training, why do so in their bedroom?

There was only one way to satiate my curiosity. I pounded the door to Room 218 three times, in rapid succession, and waited for an answer.

The door creaked open a short distance, and I heard an audible gasp. I did not expect a woman's voice to greet me. "D-David! How's it going?" That bubbly, high-pitched voice was definitely Rikku's. Sure enough, the vivacious teenager burst the door open and beckoned me into her boyfriend's room. It suddenly occurred to me that I might have been interrupting something... _serious_...between them, so I quickly thought of an escape plan. The _last_ thing I needed was to get caught up in an exorbitantly awkward situation with two lovelorn minors.

"Please, come in, David! Make yourself at home!"

"...Aren't you being a little presumptuous, Rikku? This isn't your..."

"Don't be silly," a masculine voice with a strange foreign accent cut through my complaint like a sharp knife through molded bread. "If you are a friend of Rikku's, you're certainly a friend of mine."

My concerns only deepened upon noticing that Rikku was, in fact, alone in this room with a man who certainly _wasn't_ Yosuke. This man was older, perhaps in his late twenties or early thirties, with a copper skin tone that suggested an upbringing in an exotic locale. At the very least, he clearly had not lived long in the sun-deprived slums beneath Termina. His wavy, mocha hair ended just an inch or two above his shoulders, and his goatee had been styled and trimmed to near perfection. There was a certain imperial aura that floated about this man and encompassed his every movement and gesture. His attire was sophisticated and refined compared to the vast majority of denizens in the underworld. His white tunic was ruffled and contained multiple layers of fabric, and each article of his clothing possessed elegant emblems engraved throughout its texture.

His room was also decorated to a relative degree of extravagance. Two mattresses lay on each side, separated by a respectable variety of exotic rugs. There was even a small table nestled in a corner of the room, complete with two wooden chairs. There were a few vases and other objects as well, including an ornate glass hookah pipe. Compared to their fellow tribesmen, the occupants of this classroom were living like princes. Yosuke's eagerness to leave his family behind and move in next door no longer struck me as a surprising development.

"Well...I apologize if I interrupted you..." For poor Yosuke's sake, I sincerely hoped that my first impression was inaccurate.

"No need to worry, friend," said the stranger, his suave, polished voice brimming with confidence. "Rikku and I were just finishing today's lesson."

"Today's lesson?" I asked.

"Yes, David! This is my mentor, Amir! I'm pretty sure I've told you all about him! But, in case you've forgotten..." said Rikku. Well, this was _just_ what I needed. Maybe I could just zone out of consciousness for the next ten minutes or so...

"No need to lecture the old man, _mea dovae_ ," Amir cooed. He was undoubtedly well-educated, as I noted that he spoke at least one phrase of the language of the Ancients. The last time I heard that language was nearly a decade ago, while I listened to the philosophical ramblings of an estranged sibling. "My name is Amir Badi al Zaman, and it is my pleasure to welcome you to my humble accommodations. If you'd like some tea..."

"Old man?" I groaned.

"My apologies if I unintentionally offended your sensibilities," said Amir, barely masking his conceit under layers of cultured refinement. "I prefer blunt honesty to a point where I am often misinterpreted as condescending. You are an older man, after all, so the label seemed appropriate."

I had no idea exactly _what_ to make of this man. "You can just call me...David."

"David? A trite name, a bit too mundane...but it fits you well."

"Excuse me?" I barked.

"I'm sorry, D-David..." Rikku muttered. "Amir just likes to put on a show, sometimes. You see, it's his job. And around strangers, he..."

Amir laughed a bit and shrugged his shoulders, appearing to let his guard down. "Rikku! If you share the secrets of my craft with _everyone_ we meet, who will be left to pilfer from?"

"Oh, don't play games with David! Odessa's orders! He's our honored guest! You better not be thinking of stealing anything from him, smart guy, or I'll..."

"...Rikku, Rikku. Can't you see? Look at the man's pockets. Tell me what's inside them," Amir instructed. I sighed and felt somewhat uncomfortable with the nature of Amir's test.

Rikku's spiraled eyes gazed intently at each of my pockets, and her left hand curled against the bottom of her chin. "...I'm so s-sorry, Amir! I can tell there's a few objects in his right pants pocket, but I don't know exactly what..."

"It's not _that_ difficult. He has two packs of cigarettes and a lighter, for starters. The lighter and an unopened pack are in his left pocket, but that's all that's in there. The right pants pocket has his opened pack, a key, and one of those temporary Al Bhed ID cards Odessa likes to issue to our honored guests," said Amir, correctly identifying the items in my possession with a minimal amount of effort. "So, there's nothing worthwhile. No wallet, no wads of gil, no jewelry, no valuables."

"I take it you're a petty thief, then? A most honorable profession," I said, barely restraining the sarcasm from oozing out of my voice.

"It wasn't my first career choice," Amir replied. "But, it's practically the only way to make a living in these disastrous times. So...I've adapted. The Al Bhed have compensated me well for my efforts."

"I'm guessing you're a real smooth operator. A real con artist. The type who sweet-talks his way into the purses of unsuspecting citizens. Is that something you can live with?" I hissed.

"Is it something I could live _without_?" asked Amir. "If I no longer stole, I would be the one dying of starvation. For that matter, if you're implying that I enjoy watching my marks suffer, you're wrong. Fortunately, most of my marks actually benefit from the experience. They learn the necessity of adequately protecting their possessions. And really, David, in this day and age, a man who would not kill or rape his victims stands among an honorable minority of criminals. You should not slander those who still know to live ethically."

"So, you think comparing yourself to murderers and rapists gives you valid justification to steal? That's some twisted logic."

"You really are clueless, aren't you? Do you think Odessa and Jax would _let_ me steal from innocent men and women? The Al Bhed tribe is trying to recruit those in need. Stealing from the innocent and the impoverished would be counterproductive to our goals. No. I steal only from those few who are wealthy enough to own materials worth taking. These days, that limits my operations to those who work for Vercetti. Maybe a leadership figure with the Necros or the Anthros. And, every once in a very long while, I'll have the opportunity to chase after visitors from Termina. Turks, government officials, military personnel."

Maybe I _was_ being a little harsh on Amir, but his earlier comments had hit a sore nerve. Calling me an 'old man' seemed to be a gross exaggeration, as I wasn't a wrinkled, gray-haired coot just yet. Given that I had been suffering from the effects of advanced aging, this was an especially sensitive topic. "I'm just trying to understand how you justify your line of work. You're the one insinuating you'd steal anything of value from my pockets."

Amir chuckled, mildly amused by my statements. "Not at all. As I said earlier, you are a friend of Rikku's. And you are an honored guest of the Al Bhed. If you're under the impression that I would take anything from you, you've misinterpreted me again. I'm only using you as a guinea pig, a subject for Rikku's training. If she's going to become Al Bhed's next master thief, she'll have to understand the basics of pickpocketing."

Rikku sighed, her melancholy gaze turning towards the floor. "I'm afraid I'll never be quite as great as you, Master Amir."

"With that kind of a rubbish mentality, _mea dovae_ , it's no wonder you've failed so many missions so far. You need to believe in yourself to succeed as a thief. You have the raw talent, the charming personality, and the agility. Yet you lack the most important ingredient...self-confidence."

"So, uhh...I'm guessing Yosuke isn't around?" I asked.

"Oh, n-no, silly! My Yosuke works at Junes most mornings. If you're looking for him, you'd find him at the marketplace," Rikku exclaimed.

"Rikku and I usually fit our training in when Yosuke is working," Amir explained. "It'd be a bit scandalous for Rikku and her boyfriend to spend time together in the same bedroom...you'd be surprised how nasty the Al Bhed rumor mill can be. Though I'm sure at least one of us has contributed to the weekly gossip more often than she should..."

"H-h-hey!" Rikku shouted. "That's not nice, Amir!"

Amir shrugged nonchalantly, his voice reacquiring a bit of its earlier royal pompousness. "My sincere apologies, _mea dovae_. Again, this is another dastardly manifestation of my brutally honest nature. If you only stopped yourself from spreading such rumors like an over-energetic chatterbox to every other woman in Al Bhed, I'd never make those kinds of comments again. However, so long as you insist on thrusting your tall tales of 'Amir having an affair with a Necro' and 'Amir sleeping with one of Vercetti's seven bodyguards' into the spotlight..."

"H-hey! I told you before, and I'll tell you again! That! Wasn't! _Me_!" Rikku screeched. "Seriously! I know what you think, but it isn't true! I don't spread those kinds of rumors! I don't care who or _what_ you sleep with!"

"It wasn't you? Rikku, you disappoint me. Who else would possibly have known those succulent little morsels of my personal life?" Amir said, wagging a pointer finger with mock indignation, and revealing his true indifference with a knowing smirk.

"M-maybe you should ask Yosuke! Or somebody else! But I'm not the one responsible! I absolutely, positively promise you that! And, and I just don't know how many more times I have to tell you! I'm innocent!" Rikku began hopping up and down, her fists clenched into slender balls, as if the extra expenditure of energy would help prove her point.

"You two certainly are a unique team," I said. I had a strong inclination that Amir was acting strangely. His behavior seemed contrived, almost as if he was purposely playing a role. Whatever he was _really like_ , he was putting on a show and hiding his true identity. This calm, suave persona seemed predictably stereotypical for a master thief. Rikku had hinted that possibility earlier, but I wondered exactly why this man would build fraudulent walls around himself. Did he simply refuse to trust others, and construct those barriers to keep his friends from knowing his true persona? Was he trying to redeem himself from mistakes made in his past? Or, was he protecting his conscience from the crushing weight of his morally insidious career? To develop any meaningful, deep friendship with this man would require peeling away at those layers and discovering whatever secrets he was hiding.

"Yes, I dare say we're the most formidable thieves history will ever witness," said Amir, with more than a mere trace of sarcasm in his voice. "But before history will have its chance to record our tales of valor, this young girl has to learn her parkour."

"Her _parkour_?" I questioned. "What are you talking about?"

"You've never heard of parkour?" said Amir. "You're probably too old to master its intricacies. That body of yours wouldn't hold up well when put to the test."

"You'd be surprised," I responded.

"There's a difference between one's natural agility, the kind of speed and acrobatic ability one is born with, and the fine art of parkour," Amir explained. "Anyone can have raw, unprocessed talent to dodge a blow or retreat from a conflict. Parkour is more about a refined approach to every movement you make, a vigorously dissected analysis of the proper way to handle any obstacle in your path. Most men and women view tall fortifications as impassable, and narrow crevices as unbridgeable. Parkour asks its adherents to cast aside the misconceptions and view terrain not as an obstacle, but as an ally. An efficient approach to one's surroundings leads to absolute freedom. As a thief, it is absolutely necessary to hone these talents. Without them, I would have been caught and killed several times over."

Most of Amir's description flew right over my head. "...You lost me."

"Rikku, show him what you've learned today. Do a wall climb to a dyno, and grab the bar," said Amir, pointing up to a silver metallic bar attached to the side of one of the room's walls.

"That's...that's more than twelve feet off the ground," I retorted. This classroom had a high ceiling, and Amir had apparently installed the object as close to the ceiling as he could. "How would she..."

"Show him how it's done, _mea dovae_ ," Amir stated, keeping his eyes fixated on the wall Rikku would attempt to climb. I quickly realized that Amir had converted a decent percentage of his room into training space, complete with an open area next to this wall. Presumably, he had repeatedly attempted this very feat. There was just enough space for Rikku to build respectable speed in approaching the wall, assuming that she ran at a particular angle. Still, Rikku was at least six inches smaller than Amir in height. How could she possibly scale such an imposing challenge?

The excitable blonde was nothing if not readily persuaded, and Amir's goading had succeeded in driving her to accept this trial. She backed away into the opposite corner, not far from Yosuke's bed, and began a series of brief stretches, bending down to touch her toes and wriggling her arms in preparation. "Okay! I'm ready! Let's do this!"

"And...you're sure this is safe?" I said.

"Are you kidding?" Amir chortled, stifling a hearty laugh. "Parkour isn't 'safe.' Pickpocketing, looting, burglary...I wouldn't qualify any of those as 'safe,' either. Are you seriously going to suggest that you've never taken a risk in your entire life?"

I tilted my head slightly to one side, expressing a mixture of disdain and bemusement. "I've taken plenty of risks, but I prefer not to take them needlessly. Rikku doesn't need to prove herself to me."

"You don't give her nearly enough credit," Amir retorted. "She may be a young girl, but Rikku is every bit as agile as a cat, and she's certainly more durable than one. She has the scars and bruises to prove it. I'd say she probably has at least a dozen lives left. Do you think I'd train her if she were hopeless? She has the potential for greatness, but it will take thousands of hours of practice for her to reach that level. If she's lucky, she'll scrape by with just a few broken bones."

"I'm ready, Master Amir!" said Rikku, her voice mixed with an unparalleled mixture of enthusiasm and dread. Amir raised a single thumb to the air, and in a single burst of spontaneous energy, Rikku charged the wall. I retreated to the far corner, giving Rikku more than enough berth to test her athleticism. In two concurrent intervals, Rikku jumped off with one leg while the other foot connected with concrete, elevating her several more feet off the ground. Nonetheless, her efforts were futile, as her hand grasped but did not quite the bar above her reach, and she came crashing back to Earth, her landing cushioned by a last-second evasive maneuver that sparked that familiar sound. **_THUD._**

"No! Darn it! I couldn't!" Rikku shouted, with a wounded look in her eyes.

"You're improving, and that's all that matters," said Amir, patting Rikku on the back, an apparent supportive gesture. "Here. Let me show you what you did wrong." I folded my arms and waited patiently through the proceedings, resisting that habitual urge to light a cigarette.

"First, Rikku," Amir instructed, using his own legs as props throughout his demonstration, "You used the right foot to pivot this time, but you strained too much. You placed your pivot foot too high, right about here...which is well above your knees. That kind of a position prevents you from getting the leverage you need to retain traction and power through the move. Secondly, you want only the ball of your foot to receive the contact, and nothing more. You need to be sure to jump off with your dominant leg the exact moment before you pivot. This last time, you were a little off with your timing."

"It's just really tough!" Rikku moaned. "I've scaled an eleven foot wall with a wall run just once before. You can't expect me to handle twelve..."

"Have faith, _mea dovae_. It will come to you in time," said Amir. "We'll practice more in two days, and you'll continue to improve. Next up will be cat leaps. You'll need to learn to stop using your hands to absorb most the impact from those jumps."

"All right," Rikku responded. "I guess that means practice is over?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so," Amir noted. "I have to get going. I have an...appointment...at around one today, and I'd prefer not to be late. Of course, since I'll be away, I'll need you both to leave as well. David. It was a pleasure to meet you. On occasion, you can watch Rikku and I train here again. We're even sent out on weekly pickpocketing missions for our tribe. You're welcome to join us and witness masters at the craft."

Amir took a slight bow, then proceeded to rummage through a trove of items next to his bed. He lifted a one-handed scimitar, a curved blade that appeared rusted and dull. The second weapon he took with him seemed a stark contrast to the first. The dagger was a small blade, but it seemed to glow a majestic cerulean hue. Whereas the scimitar was a weapon of common and uninspired design, this dagger seemed impeccable and _eternal_ in its quality.

"You're taking weapons with you?" I inquired. "To an appointment?"

Amir chuckled. "You never know when you may be faced with your own death. When death comes for me, I'll be prepared to fight back."

Amir motioned for Rikku and I to leave Room 218, and once we had exited into the hallway, he emerged and locked the door behind him. "Farewell, friends. David, be sure to keep _mea dovae_ out of trouble."

"Easier said than done."

"Hey! I'll be just _fine_ , thank you very much!"

I felt slightly dissatisfied with my first meeting with Amir. I thought he was withholding important information. Clearly, his 'appointment' really wasn't a traditional meeting amongst friends. Nothing about Amir seemed to add up. Where was he from? Who was he, really? How and why did he become a mere thief for the Al Bhed? Some of the possessions in his room were worth thousands upon thousands of gil. How could he afford such an affluent lifestyle in the underworld? Was he doing work on the side for Vercetti? Or did he have any connections with Link or other high-ranking officials in Termina? The more I thought about all of Amir's incongruities, the less likely it seemed I could trust him. If Amir was really a mole, though...wasn't he acting a bit _too_ obvious? A spy for an opposing faction wouldn't just march into Al Bhed's safehouse with all those riches and expect not to be noticed. Furthermore, despite all of Rikku's minor annoyances, she was a good kid at heart. She was not the type to easily trust enemies.

"David! Are you talking to your friends again?" Rikku said, wagging a finger in mock disappointment. "You shouldn't keep ignoring fine ladies like myself! No sir!"

"No, actually, I haven't used my nanotechnology lately," I replied. "I'm just...thinking things over. A lot has happened already, and we're only barely past midday."

"Hey, I'm free for a while!" Rikku exclaimed, that familiar perky energy boiling through her veins again. "What a surprise! Usually, on training days, I'll have to spend most my time with Amir. Now, I can go visit Yosuke in the marketplace! Oh! _Every day's great at your Junes_!"

"...Are you...singing?"

"Oh, uhh...yeah, umm...it's the the old theme song! For Yosuke's store! _Every day's great at_..."

"The world should be thankful you've decided not to pursue a career as a musician."

"D-David! That's just not nice! I have a _beautiful_ voice! Like an angel from heaven! That's what Yosuke says!"

"How would Amir respond? I'd imagine he'd say something like, 'I'm sorry for offending you with my brutal honesty, but it would be far more impolite for me to lie, _mea dovae_?' That's the answer I'll plead."

"D-D-DAVID!" Rikku barked. "Now you're just being a big, fat, obnoxious meanie!"

"At least I'm not the one calling you his _dove_. That's not the slightest bit creepy," I muttered under my breath.

"Why is your mind always in the gutter, David? Even Amir appreciates my beauty, but that's all! It's just a generic term for endearment, nothing more. Do you always have to assume the worst in everyone?"

The answer to Rikku's question was yes, of course, but I saw no reason to engage her in an argument. "Sorry. I guess I'm going to have to decide exactly what to do next..."

"I can come with you!" Rikku squealed, practically jumping into my arms. "Come on! It'll be fun! We can go on another adventure!"

I'd almost rather fight Liquid, Mantis, Wolf, Raven, and Ocelot all at once in a Shadow Moses grudge match than deal with this exasperating girl for another moment. Still, if I was going to pursue any leads regarding the Anthros, she'd be much more likely to know where to start and who to ask. Knowing Rikku, though, she'd find some ridiculous way to inadvertently sabotage my efforts. Nonetheless, there was safety in numbers, and it didn't seem like anyone else in Al Bhed was going to agree to undertake a journey with me. There were only three days left until Canderous and I would embark on Operation Philanthropy's first true _operation_ , and the more information I acquired beforehand, the better chance we'd have of success. With that in mind, I needed to make a strategic decision as to where and how to waste the rest of my day.

 **STATUS:**

 **Weapons:** Beretta M9 tranquilizer pistol, six chaff grenades, and six stun grenades.

 **Social Links:**

 _Level One:_  
Rikku, Canderous Ordo

 **Support Links:** _Phoenix Wright, Hal Emmerich._

 **DECISION:**

 **How should Snake spend the remainder of his day?**

 **A:** Go to the marketplace _with_ Rikku.  
 **B:** Go to the marketplace _without_ Rikku.  
 **C:** Go to Seventh Heaven _with_ Rikku.  
 **D:** Go to Seventh Heaven _without_ Rikku.  
 **E:** Ask Rikku for directions to the Anthros' park; travel to the park _with_ Rikku.  
 **F:** Ask Rikku for directions to the Anthros' park; investigate the area _without_ Rikku.  
 **G:** Attempt to speak with Odessa in Room 101.  
 **H:** Ask Rikku where to find Jax Briggs, and attempt to speak with him.  
 **J:** Attempt to gain access to Vercetti's headquarters _with_ Rikku.  
 **K:** Attempt to gain access to Vercetti's headquarters _without_ Rikku.


End file.
